On The Edge
by milford
Summary: Steve takes on a dangerous undercover assignment with disastrous results. STORY COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

On The Edge

By Milford

Rating: PG - violence

Characters do not belong to me, have been borrowed for entertainment purposes only. No money is being made.

Summary: Steve takes on a dangerous assignment with near tragic results.

Chapter One

Steve drove home slowly, trying to work out how much, or what, he should tell his father about his latest undercover assignment. His father always tried to hide it, but Steve was only too aware of how much he worried about him, especially when it came to undercover work. This particular case could have a very high risk associated with it, and it did involve a medical facility. His father would certainly want to be involved, and in a way Steve would like him to be around, but it was vitally important his cover wasn't blown and if anyone recognized Mark, then he could be in a great deal of danger. He was hoping his father would accept this more readily by having Amanda and Jesse nearby. He hoped so, since he had his Captain's approval to have them involved. The danger wasn't great for them; they just had to play a supporting role. He wasn't much looking forward to this assignment but he knew he had to do what he could to help. The hardest part was going to persuade his father to stand back and let him do this without him.

"Hey, dad, how's it going? Dinner smells great!" Steve walked in cheerfully, but his father could see the lines of worry in his son's face as he looked up from the food he was preparing.

"I'm fine, Steve, what's going on?"

Steve had to grin. He'd tried all his life to hide things from his dad, but had not yet managed to do so. He went to the bar to pour himself a drink.

"Like a drink, dad?"

"Will I need one?"

Steve grinned, ruefully this time. "Maybe, but don't panic, it's not all that bad."

Mark sighed. "Yes, pour me a drink then, please." What was it this time? He would never interfere with his son's life, but he often wished Steve had chosen a less dangerous career. There had been too many close calls over the years and he wasn't sure how much more either of them could cope with. Although as he watched his son as the drinks were poured and he knew he wouldn't change him. Steve was a son to be proud of-strong, honorable and dependable. He just had a knack of living dangerously and his body carried the scars. Mark himself carried emotional scars, but he would never lay them at Steve's door. He loved his son far too much to do that to him, or to try to change him. But it didn't mean he found Steve's dangerous lifestyle easy to live with. He took the drink gratefully and went to sit down on the sofa. He braced himself.

"I have an undercover assignment and will be starting on Thursday." It was only Monday, Mark thought to himself, so we have a few days. "You know I can't say too much about the undercover work usually, but this is a slightly different scenario." Steve paused, waiting for Mark to comment, but Mark just nodded for him to go on. "The Hampstead Institution has had several unexplained deaths…"

Mark sat upright. The Hampstead Institution was a quite well-known psychiatric hospital. He remained silent, waiting for Steve to finish.

"A patient died last week, a Mary Jones, an apparent suicide by hanging. Her sister isn't convinced though, and has asked us to look into it. At first glance it all looked straightforward enough, but the sister, Susan, has brought forward some facts the Institution did not. These facts were that there have been seven suicides over the last few months."

"It is a psychiatric hospital, Steve, the patients are disturbed so…"

Steve uncharacteristically interrupted his father. He knew all the arguments that Mark would present, although he also knew his father was a very fair and caring man and if he believed there was a problem, then he would want the hospital investigated. He was also aware that his dad would never be happy with how the investigation was to be carried out in this instance.

"I know, but none of the patients were admitted as suicide risks. These were not highly disturbed people-until they were admitted to Hampstead. There was an anonymous call last night and there is a rumor of some experimental treatments going on."

"This is a case for the Medical Association then. If experimental or dangerous treatments are being performed, then…" Mark's heart was sinking. He had a terrible feeling where this was leading and he didn't like it one little bit.

"It could be murder, and that makes it a case for us. There have been several official investigations into conditions at Hampstead, but nothing conclusive has been found against them. The patients are at the mercy of the staff and can't speak out, and it's our duty to protect them."

"You mean, your duty." A rare note of anger crept into Mark's voice and Steve looked at him in surprise. Mark noticed, and shook himself mentally.

"I'm sorry, Steve, you know I want to help people but I just hate that you have to go into these dangerous situations." I'm getting tired of worrying about you, son, it's wearing me out, although I love you very much. But the words were left unspoken. Mark had a clearer idea of what Steve could be in for than Steve did himself and if there was abuse, or experimental treatment, going on in the Institution, then there was even more reason for worry.

"I know you do, dad, but you also know how vulnerable patients can be."

"I guess I don't have to ask what your cover will be. You're going in as a patient?" Mark tried not to panic as he thought of the possible consequences.

"Yes, dad, but I won't be entirely left on my own."

Mark looked up hopefully.

"The Captain has given me permission to have Jesse be the one who admits me, as my brother, and Amanda can act as my doctor. This means I'll have contact with an outside person." Steve held up his hand at the protest he was sure his father was about to make. "No, dad, it can't be you, as you're too well-known in the medical world. If you were recognized, then my cover could be blown." He'd made the one argument that would silence Mark. He would never do anything to risk his beloved son, and they both knew it. Steve went to sit next to his dad and put his hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

"I know this is hard on you, but at least Amanda or Jesse will be able to report to you, and they are doctors….which is better than a police officer, for you couldn't be sure you'd hear from them. You know Amanda and Jesse will keep you fully informed."

Mark patted the hand on his shoulder. He was suddenly feeling his age. "I know, Steve, and I know they'll look out for you but I'm not sure you know what you could be in for. You mustn't let them give you drugs, but how can you stop them?"

Steve gave a small smile. "I can hold my own against medical staff if I have to!"

Mark reluctantly chuckled. It was true; Steve was more than a match against the doctors and nurses at Community General. The usually friendly and amiable man could be uncooperative, difficult and extremely frustrating to deal with, even with his own father. But this was a psychiatric hospital and the rules were completely different. They would medicate him if they saw fit, and what about this possible experimental therapy? Mark knew they could be in for a rough time but he also knew his son wouldn't be deterred. It was a characteristic in him that Mark loved dearly, but he also feared it at times, for it meant Steve took terrible risks.

"Oops, the dinner is burning! I guess we'd better eat now." Mark jumped up gratefully as the aroma of burning food wafted through. He needed time to think about this and come to terms with the new case. Steve watched fondly as his father raced to the kitchen. He knew very well how difficult this would be for his dad and that was why he pushed so hard to have Jesse and Amanda involved. He loved his father very much and hated the worry he caused him, but he couldn't be anything but who he was. He knew his father understood this and he loved him even more for this acceptance, but there was no question that he caused his father great anxiety at times.


	2. Chapter 2

This is a reposting and rewrite of a very old story I wrote many many years ago. I am trying to get back into writing so I will be reposting a lot of my old work.

Chapter Two

It had been decided that Jesse would be the anxious younger brother who needed to commit Steve to the Hampstead Institution. Amanda would be the family doctor, who had an interest in her troubled patient. Mark was as happy with these arrangements as he could be. He had a strong feeling that his son could end up in a great deal of trouble, and it was some comfort to him knowing that their friends would be close. As much as he wanted to be involved, he realized that he was too well known in the medical world, and if he was recognized, it would not be a big stretch for his police officer son to have his cover blown open. It didn't make it easier for him, but he knew it was important that he didn't undermine Steve in anyway. They were discussing the case over lunch that day and as Mark listened to the banter between his son and Jesse, he knew they behaved like brothers. There was very little similarity in features, but their relationship was certainly brotherly-bantering and teasing, sometimes argumentative, and yet fully supportive always. Mark had every confidence in Jesse. After all, Jesse had saved Steve's life on more than one occasion.

Steve was being admitted as a patient who suffered from severe mood swings, including uncontrollable anger and depression. He was unusually nervous about this case, knowing he could be in for a difficult time but it was in his nature to want to help vulnerable people so he tried to ignore his unease.

Finally the day came he had to start the case. He gave his father a quick hug and started to leave.

"Be careful, Steve…" Mark looked at him anxiously, wishing he could lose his feeling of dread.

"Always, dad, you take care too." With a final grin and wave, Steve left, leaving Mark staring after him.

Steve was due to meet Amanda and Jesse at Jesse's apartment. Amanda had already spoken to the Institute and arrangements had been made for them to admit Steve that day. Always cautious, Steve made sure he wasn't followed, as he drove to Jesse's place where his friends were waiting.

"You ready for this, Steve?" Jesse had been tempted to tease Steve, but he had seen how tense and worried Mark was. He also had an idea that things weren't going to be very pleasant for his friend, so he decided to hold off on the teasing until the case was finished and Steve was safe again. Several glares from Amanda had also warned him against enjoying himself too much at this point. Not that he enjoyed himself when Steve was about to put himself into danger. Jesse considered Steve like the brother he never had and he was nearly as devastated as Mark was when Steve was on the critical list-which had happened far too many times for comfort.

"Yeah, I guess so, Jess. Dad's given me instructions and told me not to take any medicine." Steve grinned at his friend, who all too often was his doctor. "Might be a bit tough though. You know how I like to obey doctor's orders!"

Steve ducked as Jesse swiped at him playfully. "Yeah, right, Steve. You're always the model patient! That's why all the nurses always run for cover when they know you're going to be admitted. Heaven help the doctors and nurses at Hampstead!"

"Now, now, boys, we have to get this show on the road." Amanda used the tone she often used with CJ and Dion but she was smiling fondly at her two friends. She had some very serious misgivings about this case as well, and she just hoped it would all resolve quickly.

"Steve, we need to discuss how you're going to behave." Amanda spoke quietly. "You're going to have to put up quite an act to fool these doctors. I think in the first instance, you should be angry and resentful at being brought into the hospital but then you'll need to play it by ear. Remember you're supposed to be prone to violent mood swings and depression."

"I'm going to be the very concerned brother who knows you need protection from yourself." Despite the seriousness of the issue, Jesse snickered.

Amanda glared at him and Steve just chuckled. "Yeah, with you as the great protective brother, it's no wonder I'm ending up in a psychiatric hospital!"

"Would you two please be serious!" Amanda was suddenly cross with them both. This entire situation had the potential for major disaster and it horrified her that they weren't taking it too seriously. As the county coroner she had performed autopsies on a couple of the victims and they had been very young. If there was something going amiss at this institute, she wanted it sorted, but she also needed her friend to be safe.

Steve looked at her as he apologized sincerely. "I'm sorry, Amanda. I don't mean to take this lightly; I mean dad has been on my case enough over it. I'm just a bit nervous about this one…"

Amanda smiled back at him. "I know, Steve, and I'm sorry too. I'm nervous as well, although I know everything will be okay. I think we should make a move now. We'll take the opportunity when we admit you of having a look around."

Steve looked at his two friends, wondering if this was such a good idea after all. "Listen, you two. Don't go taking any chances. I'm not going to be able to help you out and if you get caught, then we'll all be in trouble."

"Don't worry, Steve, we'll be as careful as we always are!" Jesse spoke cheerfully.

"That's what worries me, Jess…."

"Shut up, Steve. That's no way to talk to your loving brother!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Steve slouched in the chair, glaring around at those in the room-Amanda, Jesse, and the Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Luke Shaw. Their preliminary meeting was about to begin.

Jesse and Amanda exchanged glances, both were now feeling serious misgivings about the situation. Both doctors, they were used to hospital environments but since their arrival, the heavy atmosphere was troubling to them. Amanda was concerned that Steve would have to fool the medical staff and the ramifications if he failed to do so. If there was medical malpractice going on, or abuse, it needed to be sorted but it was a sensitive situation, with particularly sensitive patients and treatment regimes, and it could all blow up in their faces. Jesse shared her concerns as well. He knew Steve could hold his own normally against medical staff and medical advice, but this was going to be an entirely new scenario and he couldn't rid himself of his doubts and worries.

"Dr Shaw, my brother has been suffering severe depression and anger issues. He hasn't been able to hold down a job…." Jesse spoke quietly and firmly, telling himself that he had to follow through.

"You lying son of a bitch!" Steve snarled angrily. He was feeling unusually nervous about this job but he felt strongly he needed to do it. "If you minded your own business, I'd be fine!" He backed down slightly as the doctor just glared at him.

"Mr. Richards, we know you can't control yourself and that's what we're going to help you with." The doctor spoke calmly. "We need to examine and assess you and decide on the best treatment."

"I don't need your help!" Steve snorted in disgust before he jumped up, and stomped to the door. He wasn't expecting to get far, but he was shocked at just how quickly three orderlies appeared, standing in front of the door preventing him from going any further.

"Mr. Richards, you do indeed need help and I believe we can do so. You can see how worried your brother is." The doctor remained calm.

Steve glanced at Jesse. He realized this was a good opportunity to see how patients were treated if they stepped out of line, so taking a deep breath he pounced forward, trying to duck around the three men. As quick as a flash, they responded by grabbing his arms and forcing him back into the room despite his struggles. Jesse and Amanda stood up, both of them biting back their protests as Steve was roughly shoved into the chair he'd just vacated. But although almost certainly treated more roughly than seemed necessary, nothing really untoward had happened. Amanda was just very relieved Mark wasn't there.

"Leave me alone, you bastards! As for you, little brother, I can't believe you brought me here!" The anger in Steve's voice shook Jesse for a moment, until he remembered Steve was a highly skilled undercover officer and used to playing different roles.

"I just want what's best for you, Steve." Jesse said quietly.

"Yeah, right! You just want me out of the way! You want to get your hands on mom's money and it's easier if I'm out of your way!" Steve snarled.

Jesse turned to the doctor. "What happens now?"

"I'm going to prepare an order of commitment which puts him into our care and will enable us to fully evaluate him and provide whatever treatment we deem appropriate."

"Don't do this, Jesse, please." Steve now had a pleading note in his voice. "I'll behave, I promise."

"You've promised this in the past, Steve. You need help and you know you do." Jesse bit his lip as he spoke. Something was feeling very wrong and he suddenly wanted to bring this to an end.

Steve noticed his friend's reticence but despite his nerves, he was still feeling strongly they had to proceed. Taking a deep breath as he reached the decision to react violently, he leaped up shaking his fist wildly at Jesse. "You leave me here, and we're no longer brothers! I won't forget this ever!"

"I have to, Steve, I'm sorry. I can't handle you anymore." Jesse tried to remain calm as he spoke.

"You're pathetic, that's why! You don't need to handle me, you selfish…"

"Now, now, Steve, may I call you Steve? Please calm down. I'm sure you don't mean anything you're saying. But if you do, then it really shows us you do need to stay here and at the very least undergo some anger management training." Dr Shaw watched the interaction with some interest. Something wasn't quite feeling right but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Steve calmed down a little, changing his attitude to one of pleading. "Please, Jesse, don't do this. I know I can control myself…"

Dr. Shaw nodded to the orderlies. "Please take Steve to admissions and settle him down for a further evaluation. Call Dr Beattie to start the assessment process."

Steve shook his head, but he was pulled up, an orderly on either side of him.

"Please, Steve….understand this is for your own good." Steve refused to look at Jesse as he was led through the door.

"Don't blame your brother, Steve, this is a decision we've all made, but believe me you'll never regret it." Shaw tried to sound reassuring but Jesse and Amanda were feeling sick as they watched as Steve led away from them, both very shaken by the scene.

"Mr. Richards, Dr. Anderson, please don't worry about Steve. We'll take great care of him and will call you in the next few days to give you an update of his progress. The first step will be to fully evaluate him, and to try to find out what his problems are, and once that is done, we'll be able to decide on a course of treatment."

Jesse made himself speak, although it was hard. "We'll be able to bring him home soon, do you think?"

"When you can take him home will be determined by our findings. We'll know more in a few days time. In the meantime, I'd like to wish you both a good day. I need to sort out Steve's situation and discuss his case with the appointed doctor. You may visit him in two days time and not before. We need to settle him down before he sees you again, as he will almost certainly harbor a great deal of resentment against you."

Dr. Shaw reached out to shake Amanda's and Jesse's hands and they left reluctantly.

"How was it?" Mark was understandably very worried and eager to find out what had happened and he was definitely concerned about Jesse's uncharacteristic silence. Even with the direct questioning, it was left to Amanda to answer.

"It was hard, Mark, very hard seeing Steve like that. I don't think I had seen him acting undercover before and he was very convincing." Amanda attempted to speak positively but it wasn't easy.

"That's a bad place, Mark, you can feel it. Nothing really awful happened, but there's just such an aura of fear and tension around…." He gasped as Amanda kicked him, but he didn't back down. "I'm sorry, Mark and Amanda, but I think we have to be very careful and keep in contact with Steve as closely as possible."

Mark sighed, not liking Jesse's words but appreciating his honesty. Indeed, Jesse's normally cheerful countenance was very worried and thoughtful. He did know, however, that he could trust his son to these two special friends. It was his only comfort.


	4. Chapter 4

This story is not for profit and for entertainment purposes only. Characters don't belong to me…sorry, should have had this on my other chapters too.

The story is purely fiction and a journey of my own imagination, so medical inaccuracies etc are mine.

Chapter 4

As Steve was escorted out of the room and down a long corridor, he couldn't help but noticing the silence and the coldness of the place, both in temperature and atmosphere and he tried not to shiver. Usually hospitals were full of sounds, people talking, sometimes crying, trolleys being pushed around but this was like a cone of silence which was simply sinister. He was led past some examination rooms, and into a bathroom.

"You need to take a shower and get changed before Dr. Beattie will see you." The burly orderly who had taken the lead with managing Steve spoke shortly.

Steve shook his head rebelliously, not wanting to cooperate. He was completely shocked when he felt himself pushed hard against the wall, his arms being pulled up immobilizing him. The sudden and unexpected violence took his breath away.

"Now you can do this the easy way, or the hard way, it's up to you, but you will learn to obey me. What I say is law as far as you're concerned, not the doctors, not the nurses. Just so you know, my name is Mickey and I'm the boss here," Steve gasped in pain and some fear at the menace he could feel emanating from the orderly. He was pushed harder into the wall and his arms forced further up, causing him to groan. "Are you going to take the shower, or do you want me to help?" Steve shook his head. He hated giving in to bullies but he knew things could go very badly for him and he felt it was too early to rock the boat. Although if this was an example of life in the Hampstead Institution, then it definitely warranted investigation. The actions of this particular staff member were completely uncalled for and Steve had to bite back his angry protests.

"I'll do it." Steve barely whispered and he was released.

Mickey chuckled and spoke to his counterparts who had just stood by. "Almost a pity, really." Steve grimaced at the implied threat, feeling that any problems this was the person who was going to cause problems. His thoughts were interrupted when Mickey was paged.

"Okay, John and Peter, you stay with this one. Let me know if he's a problem." Mickey left and Steve sighed in relief. The other two didn't seem inclined to bother him and, although watched carefully, he didn't feel as threatened as he had. He showered quickly and reached out for his clothes only to find they'd been replaced by thin pajamas. He dressed quickly before being escorted to the doctor's room. It was obvious without Mickey's presence that he was treated with more respect as he was guided to a chair. The room was sterile and bare, quite unlike his father's cluttered and warm clinical room and he noticed the narrow trolley at the end, with ominous straps dangling. He tried to look away, and to not think about what it could mean.

"Hello, Mr. Richards, or may I call you Steve?" The doctor's voice startled him out of his reverie. He had been too deep in thought and hadn't heard the doctor's entrance.

Steve just glared at the doctor. "Whatever you want. I don't intend to stay here so there's no point getting too friendly."

The doctor sat behind his desk. He was in his early fifties, quite distinguished looking but he had very cold eyes and no expression in his voice. "My name is Dr. Beattie, and I'll be your treating physician while you're with us. I would like to have a chat with you, and try to work out what might be troubling you to see if we can help you."

Steve snorted in disgust. "You can't help me, in fact, I don't want your help. You're all the same, money hungry parasites who feed off the unfortunate people who come your way. My low-life scum of a kid brother brought me here and I've no interest in talking about my troubles to you."

"Are you always this aggressive, Steve?" There was a note in the doctor's voice that worried Steve, and the fact the doctor wouldn't look directly at him. He had kept his head down, writing notes.

Steve shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned.

"Maybe you need some time to settle in before we go any further. It's nearly dinnertime and I'm willing to give you a chance to absorb this situation. We'll chat again tomorrow." The doctor nodded towards the orderlies, and Steve felt himself helped up. He looked at the doctor, confused and more than a little concerned, but there was nothing he could do and he was taken out, thankfully the unpleasant Mickey was still absent.

He was led to the common room where patients were sitting around, some reading, some playing cards, and some simply staring into space, but no one was talking. All of them were similarly dressed in thin cotton garments and Steve guessed it was some sort of uniform although it really wasn't warm enough in the cold building. Hospitals were about caring for people…this one clearly didn't. Trying to shake off his negative feelings was difficult as he sat down as the silence was thick with a feeling of unspoken terror. He looked around carefully, not wanting to be obvious with his observations but quietly and increasingly alarmed by the gloomy atmosphere. All the patients were listless and dispirited and it was a very unnerving for him to see so many people in such a subdued state. It was obvious he was being watched too, but no-one spoke. Steve had never felt so unsettled or alone as he did at that moment. He deliberately sat near a young man who had resolutely refused to look up. Steve felt the need to reach out.

"Hi, my name is Steve." Everyone jumped at the sound of a voice actually speaking and the man looked simply terrified. He glanced up, but then downwards again almost immediately, leaving Steve shaken by the reaction. He knew he wasn't imagining the feeling of terror in the room; it was almost tangible. The patients were too scared to talk… He looked around and saw the orderlies watching him, but still no one said anything and the silence was increasingly oppressive. Although he was normally a friendly and outgoing man, he felt like retreating and hiding away, and he wondered how he was going to be able to endure this atmosphere, it just felt so very wrong. But other than the threatening attitude from Mickey, and his rough treatment in the shower, and when he tried to escape, he wasn't sure he had seen enough to know for sure that things were wrong. Although he couldn't help but believe there was something terribly wrong. Deep in thought, he was startled at the gentle touch on his shoulder and he looked into the face of a young woman in her twenties.

"My name is Elsa." She smiled tentatively at Steve. Steve smiled back, grateful for the effort she made. She was very pretty in a frail way and although she was clearly nervous, she came to sit next to him.

"Hey, you two, stop that this instant." Steve was further startled as he was pulled away from Elsa.

"We're not doing anything! We just said hello!" Steve was both angry and a little scared as Mickey grabbed him by the shirt neck, hauling him up before throwing him on the ground.

"No talking in here, not when I'm around." Mickey glared at Steve, enjoying the opportunity to stir up trouble. He was going to have some fun and maybe he had found another subject for the tests. Dr. Beattie made it worth his while and there was something in Steve that made him want to break the spirit he saw. Steve was going to respond angrily but he had noticed the reaction of his fellow patients, particularly Elsa, and he didn't want to cause any problems for them, so he raised his hands in supplication as he stood up.

"Sorry." But the expression Mickey saw in Steve's eyes did not show apology, it showed defiance and it angered him greatly. The dinner bell prevented further altercation and the patients were ushered into the dining room.

It had taken all of Steve's restraint not to hit back at Mickey but he knew he had to bide his time. It was obvious that threats from Mickey were an issue, but were they enough to explain what had happened and the aura of terror. He wasn't sure.

Dinner was a strange affair too, with the silence continuing, and Steve was by now getting very jumpy. The food was little more than watery soup and burned meat and vegetables so his usual enjoyment of hospital food wasn't going to apply to this particular hospital and he toyed with it before taking a bite. But with the strong unpleasant taste he quickly pushed it aside. Mickey was next to him in a flash.

"The food not to your taste, eh, Richards?"

Steve shook his head. "It's slop. How can you expect us to eat this rubbish?"

"If you don't want to eat, that's fine. You can retire for the evening." Before Steve could protest he was pulled up and dragged from the room. The entire incident was watched without a word by the other patients. Steve found his temper rising at the cavalier treatment he was receiving. Even if he had been a real patient, he deserved to be treated with some respect. This man was a monster! He whirled around, taking Mickey by surprise, and he managed to break loose.

"You take your hands off me! I don't need your help!" Steve was taken by surprise when two other orderlies appeared from nowhere on either side grabbing hold of his arms firmly. Mickey walked up to him and breathed in his face.

"You shouldn't have done that. This will go down in my report and will not be a good thing for you." Steve tried to shrug off the people holding him but he was expertly held and dragged unceremoniously away from the dining room, kicking and shouting out in protest.

"Let me go you bastards!" Steve yelled in frustration. The sound of his voice echoing through the silence and sounding really loud. Still kicking out and dragging his feet, he was pushed and pulled along the corridor. Struggling and writhing, trying to loosen the grip holding him, made little difference as he was pulled into a small examination room containing one narrow gurney.

"Let me go!" He continued to fight as he was pushed towards the gurney, but the hands remained firm and strong as they lifted him up so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. The two men holding him on each side had their work cut out for them, and at some point a third man had appeared, holding him down by his shoulders. Steve was very strong and fit, and an increasing sense of panic added to his strength. Still wriggling and struggling, cursing at his captors, trying to kick out, he was horrified to see the grinning Mickey approaching him with a formidable looking garment – a strait jacket.

"You bastards, you can't do this!" Steve was sweating with the effort to escape and the sight of the restraint increased his panic. He hadn't given this any consideration at all and the thought of being restrained and at Mickey's mercy was more than his tenuous control could handle.

"Get away you lousy…" words were cut off as a large wad of cloth appeared in front of him and was forced into his mouth. He lurched forwards, trying to cough out the uncomfortable gag, but he was held firmly, with his attention temporarily diverted from Mickey and his arms were roughly pulled into the jacket sleeves. It was a nightmare fight for survival, and he knew surely this wasn't right. In all of his dealings with hospital personnel, never had he been faced with such an overwhelming struggle and he couldn't begin to believe this was appropriate treatment. With very ounce of his strength he fought as his arms were pulled into the horrid restraint, his efforts resulting in him falling to the ground as he finally managed to loosen the hold on him.

"Damn him…" Mickey cursed loudly.

It was a temporary reprieve anyway, as he was easily caught, but he wouldn't give in and he swore into his gag as the battle continued, however he was outnumbered and the men knew what they were doing. The sleeves that were now on his arms were pulled behind him very strongly and tightened far more than necessary causing him to grunt and groan into his gag as they were secured and he was pulled into a standing position.

"You put up a fight scumbag, but you're ours now…" Mickey leaned his face into the sweaty and breathless Steve.

Steve was appalled at the treatment and the restraint was far too tight. He struggled with catching his breath, trying not to feel overwhelmed when he realized he couldn't even move his fingers. The feeling of claustrophobia was intense and he had to concentrate on not panicking. He couldn't let them win, not even a little so he couldn't let them see his fear. He was exhausted as hands grabbed his upper body and others grabbed his legs so that he was picked up and placed on his back on the narrow bed. Sweating with exertion from the futile resistance, and still fighting some panic, Steve was only vaguely aware of a strap being applied tightly across his chest and legs, preventing him from moving or rolling off the bed.

"That will hold you until the doctor comes to check on you. I'm going to call the doctor and sedate you and you're going to regret crossing my path."

Steve who was trying not to choke as the gag touched the back of his throat and trying to slow down his increasingly panicked breathing was already regretting crossing Mickey. This was a nightmare, he was securely held in uncomfortably tight restraints holding him in place and he was at the mercy of someone who appeared to be a nutter, certainly more dangerous than any of the patients had seemed. Tensing and relaxing, he tried to work his restraints loose but they held firmly. He tried to calm himself down and remain as still as he could as he heard footsteps returning. Determined not to show how terrified he was now feeling, he kept his eyes on the ceiling, not wanting to react in anyway.

"Hello Mr Richards…." A soft feminine voice, unlike the cold attitude of the doctor or Mickey caught his attention and he found himself looking into a kind face of a young and attractive woman. It was the first sign of kindness he'd found from any of the staff in this place.

Behind her was the orderly, Mickey, cleverly staying out of her sight but grinning evilly at him.

"I'm sorry we have to do this, sir" the young doctor's voice was soft and gentle.

Steve could only grunt in reply and watch helplessly as he watched her preparing a syringe, and he tried to ignore the grinning Mickey. He did note she seemed strangely reluctant to inject him, and he took some comfort from this as he felt his pajama trousers being pulled down slightly and the needle went into his thigh. Maybe she could be reasoned with-tomorrow. The drugs took effect quickly and he soon drifted off.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Dr. Michelle Harvey was new to the Hampstead Institution, but she was already experiencing some serious misgivings about the treatment she had witnessed. Instead of seeing patients improve, she'd seen several take their own lives and she couldn't really work out what had gone wrong. None of them had been deemed a danger to themselves on admittance, but something had changed after they arrived. She deplored the attitude of some of the orderlies, Mickey in particular, to her vulnerable patients and she wasn't sure she approved of some of the behavior modification medication that Beattie in particular utilized as she'd seen some quite violent changes in personalities. Although she was too young and inexperienced to be sure of her facts, she cared enough about people to start recording her findings and concerns hoping that maybe it would all start to make sense if she did. Steve Richards was her latest cause for concern. He'd been admitted as someone suffering from manic mood swings and depression, but she'd not seen enough to be convinced he warranted hospitalization. The orderly had reported he'd caused a disturbance, and under the rules of the institution, this meant he needed to be sedated. But as she had prepared the syringe and looked into the blue eyes staring at her so helplessly, she felt a twinge of doubt.

She could sense his anger and frustration but it wasn't the usual manic behaviour she was used to. He was clearly scared and didn't like the restraints but there was something not right. Taking a deep breath as she injected the needle in his thigh. She would make a note of all his treatments, as she was doing with the others. That was all she could do for the time being.

Mark found himself thinking and worrying about Steve constantly. He always worried about his son, but he could usually balance it out with being at work and believed he managed reasonably well, all things considered. This was very different and he just couldn't get rid of a sinking feeling of dread. From the moment Steve had mentioned this case, he had felt uneasy and he couldn't bring himself to relax about it. He'd asked Cheryl for the files on the Hampstead deaths, and in his capacity as Consultant to the LAPD, he'd been permitted to read them. Nothing he read eased his mind at all, and he just wished he could pull his son out of the Institution. All the suspicious cases were treated by a Dr. Thomas Beattie, and none of them had been suspected of being prone to suicide. The last one, Mary Jones, had been admitted suffering a nervous breakdown after the death of her husband and child in a car accident. Her sister declared outright she wouldn't have committed suicide, despite the tragic loss she'd suffered because it went against all her beliefs. Another young man had been admitted for anger and depression, but the depression hadn't seemed severe enough to lead to suicide. The other people had similar sad stories, but there was simply nothing to indicate suicidal tendencies. The common thread was the Dr Beattie. Mark closed the files, sighing. He could only hope and pray the case would be wrapped up quickly, before any harm could come to his son.

Steve woke up the next morning feeling headachy and confused, almost like he had a hangover. But as his awareness grew, so did the knowledge he was in very serious trouble. Still in the too tight strait jacket, with the gag in his mouth, he was painfully aware it wasn't a hangover. He tried to move, wanting to shift his weight off his arms, but the straps kept him securely held, not permitting any movement and he could only lie there staring up at the ceiling and wait for whatever was to come. He turned his head slightly at the sound of approaching footsteps hoping the kind doctor had returned, but this time it was only two orderlies. Grateful to see that Mickey wasn't in sight, he showed little resistance as his restraints were untied and he was helped out of bed by the two men. Surprised at how weak he was feeling he was guided to a waiting wheelchair, without a word being said. He was humiliated and embarrassed to have the orderlies guide him to the bathroom but at least they weren't threatening him or making him feel worse, even when he was so unsteady on his feet. Not one word was spoken as he was helped back in the wheelchair and wheeled back to another stark examination room. Painfully aware he couldn't have stood up and run if his life depended on it. He only hoped it didn't.

Beattie and Mickey were observing his attitude, unknown to Steve. They were in the room next to him that had a one way window.

"So you think he's a likely candidate?" Beattie asked.

"Yes I do. He's volatile and has a temper and it wouldn't take much provocation from me for him to be a trouble maker. You want the strong and defiant ones, don't you?"

Beattie chewed his bottom lip. He did want a strong subject but he was aware that there had been just a few too many deaths in too short a period. He wasn't sure he should risk another one. "Are you sure you're not just fishing for more money? It's no good you just finding me any patients, I need particular test cases."

"I know, and I admit I don't like his arrogance. But you said you wanted and needed a physically strong case and you have one here, and I'm not sure you'll find a better one. I'd bet he's very healthy and strong, just take a look at him! I think he's your ideal candidate and you'll be able to push the limits with him. The others just haven't been as strong as this one is." Mickey spoke very eagerly.

Beattie wondered vaguely what this patient had done to annoy Mickey as there was no question he'd taken a dislike to him. Mickey had proven to be a useful help in finding potential test subjects, although none had not been strong enough to last long with his trials and they had ended up dead, in most cases by their own hands but one had passed away after a stroke. Beattie had taken notes even with the stroke case because it seemed possible the drugs could have played a contributing factor in it and he needed that information. What he needed mostly though was a strong test subject who could withstand the drug interactions until he managed to get the balance right because he was sure he was on the right track. Mickey didn't care, he just took the money and made no trouble and asked no questions, almost reveling in the torment of his patients. But although the doctor sensed Mickey's strong dislike for Richards it didn't really worry him. From his own point of view, he only thought in terms of his research and he wanted and needed a strong person to undergo his experimental tests and it looked like he had one at last. It would be worth the risk.

"Okay, thanks. The money will be in your account tomorrow, but I might need your assistance with this."

Mickey grinned at the words. "For sure, doc, you can count on me."

Beattie shrugged off his feeling of revulsion for his partner in crime and went into the room where Steve was waiting.

Steve's thoughts were darting all over the place, with his anger slowly building. His head still hurt and he was hating being restrained especially as tightly as he was. This wasn't right, everything in him knew this treatment couldn't be right. He could certainly understand the fear permeating the institution if this was how they treated patients. An aura of terror cloaked the place and the sad and lost people both scared and worried him. No one deserved to be treated like this. Despite his father being a doctor, Steve had a long-standing dislike and intolerance for hospitals, but this place was something else. He'd never been as surrounded by fear, and he'd certainly never been restrained in the hospital as he now was, or been made to feel so worthless. He looked up as the doctor entered.

"Well, Mr. Richards, how did you enjoy your first day here?" The doctor leaned down to remove the gag and Steve just about spat at him, taking in deep relieved breaths as he relished the removal of the uncomfortable cloth from his mouth.

"Just wonderful, doc, had a ball." Steve responded snidely. "As for your treatment of me…Take this thing off me now! You can't keep me in it for this long!"

"I'll take it off you when I believe you can be trusted. I understand you attacked an orderly last night."

"That's ridiculous. He was pushing me around and…"

"You pushed back. Well, you have to learn, Mr. Richards, that this is not acceptable in here, or in society for that matter. With any luck, we'll teach you to control that nasty temper of yours."

"All I need is to get out of here! I don't know what I'm doing here, and it's a waste of my time and yours."

"It isn't a waste of anyone's time if we can cure you, is it? Wouldn't you like to lead a normal life and be able to control your mood swings?"

Steve studied the doctor before replying. He'd met many doctors during his life, some unfortunately on a professional basis, although it was usually Jesse who assisted when he was injured or sick, and many through the friendships his sociable doctor father forged. He'd never come across anyone quite like this man. The words were right and should have reassured him, but he felt no reassurance. The tone was cold and the doctor's face was the most expressionless one Steve had ever seen. Steve felt quite alarmed, but he didn't really know why. He told himself he was just being spooked by the frightening tension emanating from the Institution and the fact the doctor came across so cold and uncaring.

"I'd like to try you on a course of medication designed to assist control moods…."

Steve shook his head. "No, I don't want to take any medication. I'm not here because I want to be."

"No, you're here because your family have placed you here in our care and they consider you need our help. I'm going to see you get it, whether you want it or not."

Steve felt a cold chill run down his spine. Never had he felt so trapped and never had he wanted his father's comforting presence nearby so desperately. Which reminded him of something.

"I want to see my brother, Jesse. I thought he'd come to see me today." The thoughts forming in Steve's mind were that it may not be such a bad idea to bring this case to a head. But he wanted to talk to Jesse to find out if the treatment he'd received was normal. He suspected not, but was it enough proof? He needed to know that, even though he was starting to feel very scared and he knew that wasn't normal.

"Your family and friends will not be permitted to see you yet. Depending on your progress, it might not be for a few days. By then we will have assessed you properly and will have an idea of how best to treat you."

Steve jumped up, finding the strength and balance from somewhere. He'd never know why he reacted so badly, but he did and he couldn't take it back. Panic at being cut-off from his friends for longer than he had expected, and trapped in this awful place, whatever, he couldn't take back his reaction although he regretted it almost immediately and he recoiled in fear at the expression in the doctor's eyes.

"I think you need to control yourself, Mr. Richards, and we have the way to make you do it."

"All I need is to get out of here! I don't need your medication and I don't need your help!" Steve shouted angrily, wanting to be anywhere but where he was. "Let me go!" Steve staggered forward but Mickey had come in on the run and had pushed him easily back into the wheelchair.

"No, please, I'll behave…" Steve whispered. Anything to get the wretched jacket off, to get Mickey away from him. "Just take this off me….keep him away from me….I'll do everything you want…"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Richards, I don't believe you. I think it's time to take him to Isolation. He needs to learn a lesson."

Steve started to swear and protest, now ready to blow his own cover. Things were taking a nasty turn and he was very aware he would have no control over the situation going forward.

"You can't do this, you need to know I'm a ….." the words were cut off as Mickey placed a gag in his mouth, grinning as he did.

"You need to calm down, sir, you're not doing yourself any good at all. You're a patient who needs our help!"

Steve tried to spit out the gag, and stand up, but Mickey easily held him in place as the doctor prepared the syringe. Steve struggled, but the doctor was quick as he reached down to inject him into his thigh again. It was all over in minutes and Steve quickly lost consciousness.


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you to those who are reviewing or messaging me. It's a bit darker than my usual stories, although I usually give Steve a hard time I do fix him though…eventually!

I am being a bit amiss with the disclaimers, but they do always apply. Characters don't belong to me, no profit is being made. Story for entertainment purposes only and any medical discrepancies are my own.

Chapter Six

Steve opened his eyes slowly completely disoriented and confused as he awoke. His brain and body felt very disconnected and it took him a few minutes to gather his thoughts. _What happened?_ He blinked his eyes in an attempt to clear his blurry vision and looked around for the familiar face that usually hovered when he was in trouble. _Dad? Where's dad?_ Then the realization hit that he was secured most uncomfortably and tightly, and he had a gag in his mouth that had been taped down holding it in place. _What the?_ His dad would never allow him to be treated like this, and even with his mind still foggy he knew something was very wrong. Sedated, he'd been sedated again…. Looking blearily around, he noted this room was different to where he had been, very much smaller than before and so dark that he couldn't even see where the door was. There was only a small sliver of light shining through what appeared to be a boarded up window. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his mind and vision once and for all, he automatically tried to move his arms, but the strait jacket was holding firm and not allowing any movement. Aware that he needed to do something, anything, he found that although his arms were secured, he hadn't been tied down on the gurney this time and this could be his only chance. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself up into a sitting position, ignoring the slight dizziness. He then clumsily swung his legs around so he was balanced precariously on the side of the bed. But what now? The effort had tired him and he took a few seconds to try to catch his breath, wishing he could dislodge the unpleasant gag from his mouth. He had absolutely no idea how long he had been kept there, or how he could escape, but he did know he had to try. He was also very aware he had enough to open an official investigation into the activities but he had to find a way to break his cover. It wasn't going to be easy as the gag that had been taped over his mouth would not be displaced, despite his strongest efforts at shifting it and he was both scared and frustrated. _Think, Sloan, think…._

The sound of approaching footsteps did nothing to dissipate his fear and as the light went on he found himself staring at Mickey who was grinning at him again, although there was nothing comforting in the grin. Steve thought to himself rather humorlessly that Mickey was more threatening than any of the patients he'd seen, or even most of the criminals he had dealt with over the years. The sight of Beattie coming in with a tray of medical supplies further repelled him and his fear escalated rapidly into full blown horror. The tray had several bottles of pills, vials of medication, some surgical instruments and large syringes which he could only stare at it with horror.

"Congratulations, Mr. Richards, you've just become eligible for my new drug therapy." Beattie half smiled as he spoke.

Steve shook his head hard, knowing things were about to get very much worse. He tried to talk into his gag, wanting to communicate and demand them to stop, he didn't need any treatment, but the results were little more than muffled grunts. Mickey just laughed and the doctor simply ignored him.

"You can't say no, you have no choice…" Beattie's voice was cold.

Steve's panic and fury grew as he continued trying to shout his objections into the gag, he couldn't ever remember being as scared as he was at that moment. God only knew what they were going to do to him. Mickey moved quickly and pushed him back forcefully on the bed. Automatically he tried to get back up again, desperation giving him some strength, but hours of restraint and two doses of sedation in a very short period of time, plus his recent efforts at sitting up, had left him depleted and it wasn't difficult for Mickey to hold him down.

"Secure him properly, I can't have him moving during the treatment and make sure that gag is secured, he's making too much noise. I don't think we'll be disturbed in this room, but I don't want anyone nosing around if he does get too loud". Beattie turned his attention back to his tray of medications wondering what would be the best way to start. He had already observed the physical strength of his patient so he needed to calculate the dosage, perhaps a little more than he would normally start off with.

Steve felt a tremor of pure terror shoot through him as a strap was pulled across his chest, and grunted in pain as it was secured far too tightly. Any small chance of escape had now disappeared, although he had no intention of going down without a fight. In a last ditch attempt to fight back, he started kicking out with his legs. It was a completely futile attempt as he was very firmly restrained by the strap over his chest and had no way of breaking free, but he had no intention of making things easy for his tormentors.

Mickey chuckled as he effortlessly grabbed Steve's legs. "Told ya, doc, this one's tough! He ain't about to give in!"

Steve persisted in his struggles, determined to whatever he could to delay what seemed inevitable, and he shouted into his gag with increasing desperation. This was wrong, he knew it was very wrong….

"Do you need help?" Beattie watched the forceful resistance of his patient with interest and Mickey's quick and efficient handling of his tenacious efforts. It was going to be interesting to observe what his drugs would do to Richards. Clearly physically and mentally very strong, the doctor found himself getting quite excited about what the results would be and how far he would be able to push his dosages. He seemed to have got lucky in finding a very tough test case and it could well be that this would be the one who would bring him success if he could only get the balance of his medication right.

"Nah, we're right! Just having some fun, right?" Mickey was thoroughly enjoying himself and it only took him a few minutes to pull straps over the upper and lower parts of Steve's legs. Once secured enough to stop him kicking, Mickey then proceeded to tighten the restraints, leaving the terrified Steve completely helpless and infuriated. He yelled with rage, wanting desperately to reach out, to tell them who he was, even though he doubted it would save him. Despite his valiant attempts, the gag still kept his voice muffled. Even in his now panic-stricken mind, he knew what they were doing went far and beyond normal treatment so they would hardly welcome a police officer investigating them, or back away at this point. But he was growing frantic, wanting desperately to postpone whatever was going to happen. Time, he needed to play for time… the more time the better… But both the doctor and Mickey were ignoring his persistent protests, the doctor still busy with arranging his medication supplies, and Mickey just smirking at him. He lifted his head as high as he could, the only part of his body he could lift even slightly, trying to spit out the gag, refusing to give up, he wouldn't give up, and he needed to express his outrage in anyway that he could. There was no way he was just going to lie there quietly. He glared at the now chuckling Mickey who was highly amused as he observed the turbulence and fear emanating from his victim and the grimacing of pain as he tightened the restraints yet again.

"I'm guessing you're not too comfortable, Richards, but trust me when I say this is best that you can't move at all," Beattie said in a conversational manner. "Would you like to know what we're going to do?"

Steve just glowered into the cold face of the doctor. He wasn't sure he wanted to know, this whole scenario had just become a surreal nightmare. He was sustaining his vocal protestations, only being stilled when Mickey without warning pushed his head back down hard. Stunned briefly, he was aghast to feel a leather strap being applied across his forehead, forcing his head to remain down, and yet another one was placed across his chin. As the straps were cruelly tightened, the claustrophobic terror was overwhelming to Steve as he grappled with the knowledge that he was completely and totally immobilized. His heart was now pounding wildly in his chest and he had to force himself to slow down his panicked breathing. _Calm down, Sloan, calm down…_ he told himself, although a dark blanket of despair enveloped him as he acknowledged he was now completely powerless and unable to defend himself in anyway. He commenced his protests again as his rage grew, even though he knew he would be ignored. Mickey then leaned down and pulled the tape tighter across his mouth, laughing as Steve choked as the gag was forced further back in his throat, causing him to be silenced momentarily. _Oh God, no, help me please…_

"I know you're scared but this could really help you. I've been working on my own mixture of medications for psychotic patients who are subject to manic mood swings. The idea is to stimulate the depressed part of the brain, but also to calm down the mania so the chemicals need to be balanced properly to achieve the right harmony. There are lots of drugs on the market but my idea is to simplify the different types. I have a theory about what's needed, but unfortunately I haven't been able to get research institutes or drug companies to investigate as there's not a need. Plus my suggestions are deemed to be too risky." Steve listened with growing horror as the doctor explained his plans. "So it's up to me to give them some evidence of my theories and the only way to do that is to do some experiments. Which means you're a test case for me. You're fighting mad so I am not really sure about how much to give you but I don't think I need to worry about stimulating your brain." Beattie looked into the angry blue eyes thoughtfully. "But don't worry, you're doing your bit towards medical science….and if it works, you'll have a new and much more productive life, not to mention more balanced."

Steve was absolutely horrified at the thought of being a guinea pig. He was still unwilling to give in on any level even though it appeared his was a seemingly hopeless situation and he started yelling with fury again. Despite his usual stoicism and strength, he couldn't help but revolt at this grotesque treatment and with everything in him he knew he had to continue to fight for as long as he could. His dad would want him to…need him to. Trying to remember Jesse and Amanda would be visiting him, and to believe he could survive this, he closed his eyes, no longer wanting to hear what the doctor was saying, or watch him preparing the medication that he knew could permanently harm him. But he kept up his angry protests, everything in him demanding that he fight and object while he could.

"So Mr Richards, as I said, I'm going to give you my own mixture of meds and

observe your behavior over the next twenty four hours if all goes well. I'm not sure how you'll react or what you'll remember, but I am hoping it will help you control your terrible temper. You do have a problem with anger you know. I can see and feel the rage in you now." Beattie said amiably as he observed the tension in his still recalcitrant patient. "Your brother will be permitted to see you the day after tomorrow initially, subject to how you handle this medication. After that, he'll be kept away for a week, which will give me ample time to increase and decrease your dosage and observe your improvements…or not. It's going to be a time where I can test things out properly and get the balance right hopefully. Sadly not all of my patients have survived but you're strong and fit so I have some expectation that you will."

Steve was painfully aware neither the doctor or Mickey were listening but he was now incapable of preventing himself from yelling in rage what he was being put through. It was a hideous abuse of his rights and he couldn't quite believe what was happening. He thought of his dad, and knew he had to fight to survive for him, but he wasn't sure how. With difficulty, he pictured his dad smiling at him, encouraging him as he always did…but it was hard, the fear was becoming all encompassing. _Concentrate, Sloan, concentrate_ …. _how bad can it be…_ he told himself. _Don't think about what they are going to do…._ He tried to remember the Christmas just passed, his father dressing up as Santa Claus…it was funny, something funny had happened, but he couldn't remember….what was it…..why couldn't he remember? _Oh God…what…._ As he felt the cold sharpness of what felt like a needle on his neck he tried to brace himself mentally. _Nooooo, please….._ he grimaced, praying for someone to help him _…..Too late!_ Steve shot his eyes open with a jerk as he felt the needle being pressed in, startled by the piercing pain as it penetrated his skin. _Oh…._ Steve gasped as the injection persevered, the slight stinging feeling became a stronger burning sensation as the drugs were infused into his body. _Fight…he had to fight and resist….Dad…_ his mind screamed as he felt his heart pounding wildly and erratically and his head immediately started to pound. _Dad…._

"Don't move, Richards, you really don't want to move…not that you can but it's really for the best." Beattie spoke softly as he continued to plunge the syringe deeper into Steve's neck. At the same time he was watching the myriad of emotions, fear, anger, panic, that Steve's face showed and he watched with interest the expression contort as the drugs took hold.

"This is interesting, it's hurting him….I must have the balance wrong still…I'm not sure why it's hurting him…" Beattie whispered more to himself than anyone as he continued to hold the syringe in place and observe Steve's anguish. "Look, he's in pain…." But he made no attempt to withdraw the needle and continued to slowly push the chemicals in.

For Steve's part, his world had narrowed into complete misery and pain. He was aware of the needle in his neck, and knew something terrible was being done to him, it hurt, how it hurt…. but he was powerless to fight back and it horrified and sickened him. His muffled shouting had at last slowed and quietened down as the needle remained in place, steadily injecting the medication into his body. Breathing hard and fast, and now in considerable physical and mental distress, he remained determined to battle the effects of the drugs and he made himself remember the image of his father dressed up as Santa Claus. But it was becoming more difficult by the second, and his thoughts started to become chaotic and confused as his ordeal persisted. After a seemingly endless time, he was vaguely aware of the needle being removed, but as a strange cold numbness spread through him, he knew the damage was done and he was shattered. _Fight….fight…._ but Steve felt his energy draining as fatigue swept over him.

 _Help me…._ He choked back sobs of terror, not wanting to show his captors any weakness, but he was now reacting completely without volition and he started to shake. The wave of exhaustion that was hitting him was more intense than anything he had ever experienced, but despite this, he knew he couldn't give in and he kept his eyes wide open, involuntarily starting to groan again, a war being raged between his mind and body. His body wanting to surrender, but his mind attempting to reject the drugs. _Help me… no one had helped him…._ He tried to stay fixated on his dad but the image in his mind was becoming blurred and out of proportion…and his head felt like it was going to explode. Different images were coming to him. Disturbing images of people chasing him, wanting to hurt him, laughing at his suffering. He tried counting and thinking about something else, but his brain was tiring as the drugs consumed him and the images started to fade as his concentration evaporated…. _Dad…help….._ Steve closed his eyes, the medication finally winning the battle and he lapsed into oblivion. Unbeknownst to him, the doctor was very impressed with the strength and resistance shown even as the drugs clearly were taking effect. Richards hadn't given in easily, it was purely the strength of the medication that had at last overtaken him.

"Well, Mickey, looks like you have found me a good one. I can't recall any of the others resisting for as long as he did. It will be interesting to see his reactions when he wakes up." Beattie looked at his now unconscious patient with some admiration.

Mickey just grinned, he had known this patient would be strong and tough and it was going to be good fun to see him broken.

"We'll come back in a few hours," Beattie indicated that Mickey should come with him and they left the room.


	7. Chapter 7

Same disclaimers, no profit being made, characters don't belong to me.

Chapter 7

It had been 24 hours since Jesse and Amanda's visit to the Institution and they'd both remained very concerned about their friend. After leaving Mark, they decided they would pay an impromptu visit to Hampstead.

"I know we can't interfere, but Amanda, I'd sure feel a lot better if we could see what's going on in that place. I don't want to worry Mark more than he is, but what say you and I go and see if we can touch base with Steve." Jesse looked appealingly at Amanda. But it wasn't a hard decision or discussion, for she shared his misgivings and was also feeling that they needed to see what was going on.

"Yeah, I think we should. I mean if they know he has people looking out for him, it could help offer him some protection," Amanda said grimly.

After agreeing on their course of action, they got into Jesse's car and drove quickly to see Steve. But they were not relieved or pleased by the reception they received and the receptionist was not helpful.

"I'm sorry, Mr Richards, but I don't have permission to let you see your brother. The instructions are that he's in isolation for treatment." She smiled politely as she spoke.

"Look, he's my brother and she's his doctor. We shouldn't need permission to see him!" Jesse was growing angry as his worry increased tenfold.

"Let me get Dr Shaw, the Chief Medical Officer, to talk to you. But I'm not going to let you in." She turned picked up the phone.

Dr Shaw, the Chief Medical Officer, came out reluctantly.

"I'm sorry, Mr Richards, your brother is currently being assessed for treatment and you can't see him at least until tomorrow and even so, I have to check with Dr Beattie. It might be longer, subject to how he is going." The Chief Medical Officer was polite but firm with the increasingly anxious Jesse and Amanda.

"We were told we could see him at anytime," Jesse protested. Which wasn't quite true but he couldn't rid himself of a very strong feeling that he needed to see Steve.

"You agreed to leave him with us and in our care, we simply cannot do our jobs properly if you second guess everything or want to visit him all the time and I thought I had made this clear when you left him here," Dr Shaw remained firm.

Jesse exchanged a glance with Amanda, and decided on another tact. "I'm sorry, Dr Shaw, but Steve's my big brother and I'm just very worried about him. He was so upset when we left him here, we just need to make sure he's okay."

"As his family doctor, I believe I have every right to look in on him," Amanda said strongly.

"Of course he was upset, he probably still is upset with you. But come back tomorrow after I have a chance to talk to Dr Beattie and I'll let you know when you can see him." Dr Shaw was polite.

Jesse looked at Amanda who nodded briefly. Despite their misgivings, and those of the anxious Mark, they knew they had to follow the protocol and rules unless they were to break Steve's cover.

"Okay, Dr Shaw, but I am going to have to insist we see him tomorrow when we come back, regardless!" Jesse said adamantly.

But as they walked to the car, Jesse turned back to look at the institution.

"We need to find a way to get in there, to make sure Steve is okay. I have a really bad feeling that he's stuck in there on his own. Isolation? What the hell does that mean! We've got to make sure we see him," Jesse spoke angrily. "But for the life of me I can't work out how we're going to do it."

Amanda nodded. "I agree, let's go see Mark and tell him what we've done and maybe we can talk to Newman. Steve is just too vulnerable there and we need to make sure he's safe".

As Steve opened his eyes, he was hazily aware that something really very bad had happened but he just couldn't gather his thoughts. His head was pounding and neck was sore, but he couldn't move. Bewildered and confused all he could do was lie in the darkness staring up at the ceiling. He had no recollection of what he was doing there, or how he had got there and he started to groan. He needed help, he knew that as consciousness slowly returned. Where was his dad? Why was he so securely tied down? Why didn't his dad help him? But his thoughts were random and flighty and he found himself unable to hold them down for more than a few seconds and despite his growing awareness of his physical discomfort, he felt so very tired and lethargic. Shadows flickered in front of his eyes as random images floated through his mind, but he didn't react, feeling too heavy and exhausted and it was much easier not to think. He longed for peace to drift off again but although weary beyond words, he was wide awake and just lay there alone in his dark and lonely world losing all perception of time. The sound of the door opening and footsteps barely registered with him, but the light being turned on made him cringe and close his eyes quickly. After his prolonged period in the dark, the brightness caused his eyes to sting and water.

"Well, Richards, you've finally returned to us. You've been asleep for hours. Was getting a bit worried I'd overdosed you…" Beattie said as he walked back in the room with Mickey behind him.

Steve kept his eyes closed and didn't react or respond to the voice, even as he felt the tape being painfully torn off his face and the gag removed although he did take in a couple of slow deep breaths. He made no further attempt to move as the restraints were finally loosened and released.

"Wake up, Richards…" Beattie lightly slapped Steve's face trying to make him respond but although he was awake, he remained very passive.

"Ummm, I guess the fight's been taken out of you now," Beattie was avidly watching the lack of reaction. He wrote a few notes as he observed his now completely dejected patient. It wasn't quite what he wanted, but it just meant he needed to experiment more as he still didn't have the balance right. Maybe he had given him too much but Richards had fought so hard that he'd determined he needed more medication but it was possible he had overdone it. He was puzzled but fascinated too, this was why he needed a strong patient so that he could keep trying as he was sure he was on the right track.

Mickey laughed as he saw the previously arrogant man seemingly so subdued.

"What a difference…not going to cause trouble now, are you?"

Steve opened his eyes again cautiously, but closed them again before opening them as his vision adjusted but it was the only sign of life he showed and it was an automatic involuntary physical reaction to the sudden brightness of the room. He groaned as felt Mickey putting his arm under his shoulders and pulling him into a sitting position, he just wanted to be left alone.

"Leave me…." His voice was slurred and whispery as his head lolled forward, he couldn't control his movements and although he didn't resist, he had no capacity to assist.

"Not gonna happen, Richards. You'll do as we ask!" Mickey hooked his arm around Steve's upper body and pulled him off the bed, but with Steve's inability to move he had to half lift him into the waiting wheelchair as his legs collapsed under him. But Mickey held him expertly up until he was seated safely.

"Damn you, Richards, the least you can do is help…" Mickey was laughing though, relishing the helplessness of this previously very strong man. Mickey then pushed him forward slightly as the strait jacket was finally removed and his numb arms fell uselessly in front of him. He felt like a zombie, his mind and body frozen and his head dropped forward again. Mickey pushed his head back but he was still very obviously spaced-out and past caring about anything.

Beattie was slightly concerned as he observed the clearly poor condition of his patient. He examined him carefully, very surprised at how unresponsive he was. He wrote a few notes before making a decision.

"I think I've left him alone too long, he needs to be out in the main area where he has things to get his mind working again. Probably if we get some food into him that may help too. I'm betting he'll come good soon but he needs some help." Beattie leaned down and looked closely at Steve who remained withdrawn. "I'm certainly not going to let his brother and doctor see him while he's like this so get some food into him, and watch him carefully. I'm going to my office to make some notes and calculate the next dosage and when to give it to him".

Steve heard the voice talking but he paid little attention as the words meant little to him. Why were they bothering him? He just wanted to go to sleep.

Mickey chuckled as he grabbed the wheelchair. "Not so argumentative or noisy now, are you Richards" Mickey's voice was mocking as he wheeled him down the corridor.

It was beyond Steve to talk or to move, so he didn't respond to the mockery and barely seemed to hear it, although he shuddered as Mickey carelessly bumped the chair into the wall, the impact causing his head to start pounding again, and his breath hitched. The light was still bothering him too but he couldn't communicate and just huddled down in his chair.

"Oops, sorry, Richards…" Mickey's voice was very non apologetic. But Steve still didn't react, he wasn't able to, and he was oblivious of the eyes watching him as he was wheeled into the dining room.

"You're going to eat now, Richards. I'm sure it will make you feel better." .Mickey's voice whispered in his ear.

Steve wasn't hungry, he just wanted to lie down and sleep, retreat into the darkness again, but something was telling him to obey. Shaking badly, his arms still numb from being restrained for too long, he picked up the spoon but he just couldn't hold his hand steady and the soup slopped on the table in a liquid pool.

"Clumsy, aren't ya!" Mickey laughed as he grabbed the spoon and forcefully placed it near Steve's mouth. Reluctantly he accepted the spoon and coughed and spluttered weakly as the liquid was fed to him but Mickey persisted none too gently propelling the spoon into Steve's mouth again as he was compelled to swallow. "Gotta keep your strength up…." Steve remained insensible to anything else in the room as the awkward feeding continued. Concentrating hard on swallowing, part of him was craving the warmth and sustenance and the other part feeling quite distanced from everything and he could only focus on the action of being fed and trying not to choke. After a few minutes, Mickey stopped and stood back. Steve dropped his head back down on his chest, breathing very hard and trembling after the efforts. What had happened to him? His brain remained fuzzy and blurry as his chair was pulled back and taken into the common room.

The small amount of food he had eaten had revived him enough for him to remind him he was in serious trouble and needed to escape but he remained unable to summon any physical energy to do any more than realize he was in danger. Clearer memories were starting to return, a white haired man seemed to be calling him but he couldn't remember who it was and he closed his eyes again. He knew he was supposed to do something but the thoughts were elusive as his mind continued to dance around. Physically he remained flattened and depressed, but mentally his brain was slowly starting to reactivate and he knew he was scared, he just didn't know what to do about it.

He was totally unaware Mickey and Beattie had been watching his lack of movement and animation as the hours passed and he was completely unaware that he had been in the same position for over six hours. Beattie had noticed a slight improvement after eating, but he was surprised his patient hadn't improved more. Time had lost all meaning for Steve long ago but suddenly there was a voice was calling him back and he struggled to concentrate.

"Mr, are you okay" The voice seemed from far away but it was persistent, as was the hand on his arm. "Hey, Mr, what's wrong?"

He opened and closed his eyes, trying to pay attention. He knew he had to say something but he didn't know how. The young woman who he had talked to earlier, Elsa, had approached him cautiously.

"Hey, Mr, are you okay?" Her gentle voice continued to seep through his cloudy brain. Steve lifted his head with difficulty, blinking his eyes again trying to clear the fog. He was trying, really trying… He could only manage a very weak grin, he really knew he wasn't okay but he had no clear idea what was wrong. He let his head drop back wearily to his chest, the mere effort of looking up proving too much but he found something comforting about the soft voice and he wanted her to keep talking to him. If only he could tell her….she was helping him.

"Okay, okay, enough talk. Mr Richards needs his beauty sleep," Mickey's taunting voice made Steve quail slightly.

Noooooooo….. his mind screamed in protest as he felt his wheelchair being pulled away from the friendly voice. He tried to turn to look for the voice again, but his body wasn't cooperating and he had barely moved even though he thought he had. Something was wrong, something bad was going to happen, or had it already happened. The room had started to spin and he grabbed hold of the wheelchair arms. He was unaware that Mickey was rocking the wheelchair from side to side, further disorienting him. All he knew was he was dizzy and the world was spinning. Oh God what was happening…..and he was terrified.

"What's wrong with me?" Steve whispered as he was wheeled erratically away.

"Nothin' that can't be fixed…." The voice was mean but Steve's lethargy started to slip as he was wheeled into the small examination room again. Something in the room sparked his survival instinct and although he was still very weakened and confused he knew he couldn't let them touch him again. Using all of his fortitude he stood up, startling Mickey and Beattie with his sudden and completely unexpected resistance. His mind had started to fight the battle with his body and he knew he had a fight for survival, if only he could find the strength.

"No…..leave me alone…." His words were stronger than his voice and he could only stumble forward clumsily. Mickey grabbed him easily and pulled him towards the bunk. Flailing his arms around, trying to fight, to hit out, Mickey enjoyed the ineffective defiance and could easily avoid the fists attempting to hit him and he openly laughed at the vain efforts. Steve had no control over what he was doing, his instincts pushing him forward, but his coordination and physical strength was non-existent. Beattie made no attempt to help, just watching with extreme interest the return of some animation and determination. He noted that although the will to fight had certainly returned, Steve clearly lacked his usual strength and had absolutely no bearings or balance. He fell to the ground, protesting and still combative as Mickey hauled him up and pushed him to the bunk, refusing to give in despite his extreme weakness.

"Nooooo, please….." Steve's physical efforts were helping to starting to clear his brain a little more and it was obvious to his captors that the drugs that had kept him so subdued were finally beginning to wear off, although he was still very far from himself and he hadn't regained physical control at all.

"Let him be….he's finally starting to recover, I want to see how much he does," the doctor spoke to Mickey who was savoring the game. He had no problems with letting it continue, it was a cat and mouse game that he delighted in. He dropped Steve to the ground. The fall had the effect of further clearing his head and Steve pulled himself up awkwardly. Still very wobbly but more focused, he glared at Mickey who just grinned. Filled with fury and rage, Steve lunged at him, startling both men. Mickey yelled out in protest as Steve's punch made contact with him, but he quickly recovered by punching Steve in the stomach. In his still weakened state, Steve doubled over in pain.

"NO, don't hurt him….we'll give him another dose…clearly he needs more medication." Beattie yelled at the angry orderly. "I don't want him injured!"

Mickey scowled, it was fun playing with his patient when he was helpless but he was angry that his stubborn patient had managed to hit him even though the blow had been weak.

Steve forced himself to stand up, ignoring the pain from the punch. But he still couldn't balance and he stumbled towards the door.

"Help….help me…" In his mind he was yelling but the reality was his voice was soft, barely more than a whisper. He fell on the door, trying desperately to grab the door handle. But he couldn't find it. Why couldn't he find it? He reached desperately, biting back sobs of frustration at his inability to find the handle, the two men just watching, Mickey laughing openly as he continued to fumble for the door handle that he just couldn't find.

"Forget it, Richards, you ain't going nowhere", Mickey taunted him as he took hold of Steve's arms and pulled him back. But Steve still wasn't prepared to give in.

"Enough already, Get him ready for another dose…" Beattie was concerned that his patient would be injured by his too eager orderly, he wasn't ready for this to happen. He'd rather test him with more drugs. "If his brother comes in tomorrow I don't want any marks on him…plus I've seen enough. Six hours after his dose, he's starting to recover. It's taken awhile but I gave him a stronger dose, so it's to be expected his recovery time would be longer than normal." Beattie wrote some notes as he spoke.

It wasn't hard for Mickey to overpower Steve, despite his continuing opposition. He just couldn't control his body, even though his resolve had returned. Mickey just laughing at his weak attempts to escape before grabbing his arm and pulling it up behind his back.

"Leave me alone you freaks…." Steve gasped as Mickey's hand forced his arm painfully up further.

"You've got to learn to behave…." Mickey taunted him.

"Do you need any help?" Beattie asked. "I must say, I am impressed with his strength."

"Nah, he's fine" Mickey laughed as he released his hold on Steve, putting out his leg as he shoved him forward. Steve tripped over the leg as intended, and fell face forward to the ground. Mickey grabbed his neck and pulled him into a kneeling position.

"Get on the bed, Richards…" He screamed in his ear.

"Never…." Steve's voice broke as he was then thrown violently to the ground, this time his head connecting with one of the legs of the bed, causing him to be further stunned, and a trickle of blood from where his head had been caught.

"Take it easy, Mickey!" Beattie was concerned as he saw the blood. "I said no marks!"

"Sorry, doc, he's being a pain." Mickey hauled the woozy and shocked Steve up and this time easily pushed him on his back on the bed, then lifting his legs. Steve dazed by the blow to his head, made no further attempt to struggle as the leather restraints were applied around his legs and chest but he recoiled as he felt the doctor touching his injured forehead.

"Shame this happened, hopefully it won't affect this trial. Head injuries can be problematic," Beattie muttered as he turned his attention back to his tray.

Mickey grinned at his hapless victim, thoroughly getting a charge out of this game. The blue eyes glaring at him were very bleary but showed a return of rebellion, this was going to be fun. He held the large cloth gag in front of Steve in a taunting way before leaning in and grabbing his jaw, forcing it open. Steve couldn't prevent it being forced into his mouth and grimaced as the tape was stuck over his mouth holding it in place.

"Don't want you getting more injured, or biting your tongue!" Mickey mocked as he leaned too close into Steve's face. Steve flinched again as he felt a leather strap being pulled across his forehead, pressing into the bleeding graze. He was again completely at the mercy of these lunatics. He closed his eyes, he didn't want to watch. He jerked slightly as he felt the needle going into his neck again the intense burning sensation as the drugs entered him, before he lost all awareness. This time he had little fight left, and drifted off quickly.

Beattie watched him lose the battle much quicker this time and he wrote a few notes.

"I've given him more sedation this time to get him ready for his family visit. I don't like his attitude at all and we need to make sure he's under control. But next time, I'll change the balance to see how we go with changing his moods and will try to stimulate him. Let's get him back to his main room and let him sleep it off. Other than sleepy, he should be okay for his visitors. But it would be good if you were there to keep an eye on him. Don't want him telling tales out of school, though I'm pretty sure he won't remember anything. If he does do or say anything, you'll need to step in." Beattie said.

"Not a problem, doc, happy to help!" Mickey agreed happily. No way was he going to let this difficult patient cause any problems.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Mark had been impressed and worried when Jesse and Amanda mentioned their follow up visit to Hampstead, but he more than shared their concern about them not being able to physically see Steve so he decided he would pay a visit to Newman. But it wasn't going well. As he faced Newman, he was showing a side of himself that he rarely did.

"My son is trapped in that institution with no back-up! How do I know he's safe? They've been told they can't see him until tomorrow and that's not good enough. If they're drugging him, then he's not going to be able to defend himself even if he needs to!" Mark was only rarely really angry and this was one of those occasions.

"I can't give you the details, Mark, but would it help if I told you that we do have a back-up close by?" Newman liked the normally amiable doctor but he was currently having some difficulty keeping him calm. This only happened when Steve was at risk.

"What do you mean? You mean there's someone in there who can help Steve if he needs it?" Mark demanded.

"I told you, I can't give details but I do have a police officer there who can report if he's in any trouble." Newman said. "Look, I know you can be trusted, as can Jesse and Amanda, but I can't afford to risk both their lives and you know how highly sensitive this case is. You have to trust that I haven't sent one of my best officers undercover without any sort of back up. Hopefully Jesse and Amanda can get into visit tomorrow, but if not, unless we hear to the contrary, we need to keep this operation going." Newman was firm.

Mark was slightly appeased, he should have known that proper arrangements would have been made although he would have felt better if he knew what they were. He was slightly surprised Steve hadn't mentioned it but then again he couldn't really expect him to tell him everything.

"Of course, we don't know for sure there's any danger either, it is a medical institution after all," Newman continued.

"I've just got a bad feeling about this one, but if you say Steve has back-up then I'll back down. Please let me know if you hear anything," Mark smiled weakly before he left.

Newman watched him depart. He was a little concerned that he hadn't heard anything from the police officer but if he had let that piece of information slip, he knew there was no force on this world that would have stopped Mark from charging in. He picked up the phone knowing he needed to make sure things were still under control.

"You can see your brother this afternoon, just briefly." The Chief Medical Officer wasn't pleased or surprised to see the Richards brother and doctor return the following day. Beattie had initially been very reluctant to allow visitors but after some persuasion had agreed to a quick supervised visit that afternoon. Mickey, the orderly, was asked to show them to where Steve was. Beattie would join them later but had asked Mickey be there.

Amanda and Jesse were escorted from the main office, looking around and feeling uneasy at the silence of the institution. With tacit agreement, they kept their conversation limited as they were shown into Steve's room. Swallowing hard Jesse approached the bed. Steve was lying on his back, his head turned away from the door, and appeared to be sleeping. He had shown no sign of hearing them enter.

"Amanda….he's…." Jesse was shocked at the sight of his best friend and he leaned over to touch his forehead. He'd had the misfortune to see Steve badly injured in the past, and helped him through life threatening injuries and illnesses, but this was something different and he had a terrible feeling that something was really wrong.

The touch on his forehead disturbed Steve. Groaning in protest at being woken up, he longed to be left in peace, but the voices persisted. Again…why couldn't they leave him alone.

"Steve, buddy…are you okay?" Jesse said softly.

"Jess, he's not looking too good at all…" this time a woman's voice was whispering.

Opening his eyes with difficulty, Steve found himself looking to the concerned faces of people. Opening and closing his eyes again, he hazily thought he knew them. He forced himself to concentrate, the voices refusing to let him drift off again even though he wanted to.

"Steve, Steve, are you okay?" a male voice was asking him anxiously.

He just stared up into the vaguely familiar face. He felt like he was floating and detached from his environment. Awareness was slow in returning and he turned his head cautiously to look around. He swallowed hard as he tried to remember what had happened.

"Steve, listen to me, what's going on? Talk to me…" Jesse was growing increasingly anxious at the lack of animation or energy in his friend. His pupils were dilated but it was the lack of recognition that really alarmed him. He also noticed the bandaid on Steve's forehead and wondered what had happened to cause that. He touched it slightly, his concern increasing by the second. Steve was far too subdued.

Steve just looked at him wearily, he knew this man, he knew he did. He blinked slowly, trying to get his mind working again but he just couldn't think. He moved slightly, pleased he could but still confused as to what or where he was or why he should be pleased at being able to move.

Jesse and Amanda were truly appalled at what they saw. Steve looked white and exhausted, black circles under his bloodshot eyes, and worst of all, he looked as if he didn't recognize them. The bandaid on his forehead indicated a slight head injury but it wouldn't account for this level of confusion.

Mickey was watching from behind Jesse and Amanda, just glaring at Steve. He was ready to respond and react if necessary but so far Steve had remained silent and absolutely no threat to him or Beattie.

Steve forced himself to focus and as he woke up more, his mind started to clear and he managed a small grin. Friends, somehow he knew they were friends.

The beautiful woman who was standing next to his male friend reached down to touch his forehead gently.

"Steve, are you okay?" She whispered, not wanting anyone to hear, but wanting Steve to give her a sign that he was okay—or if there was no sign, they would know what they already did, that he was not.

"mmmmm okay." The words were an effort and Steve continued to blink wearily at the two people watching him with such concern and licked his dry lips. He was aware of an intense thirst but he couldn't form the thoughts or the words needed to communicate his need. A part of him was starting to fight back against the confusion and he focused on these two people who seemed so concerned, and seemingly not wanting to hurt him.

"No he's not." Amanda hissed at Jesse who had moved next to her. "We've got to get him out of here."

Jesse didn't need convincing. Whatever had happened to Steve wasn't good. Steve looked as if he barely knew them.

"No, mmm okay…" Steve forced the words out. Memories of Jesse and Amanda were returning and he knew he had a job to do. Something had happened but what…he had to do his job. His strong will had kicked in and he again licked his dry lips as he spoke. He had trouble focusing his mind on what he had to do, but he knew he couldn't leave. He had to help people…he closed his eyes, forcing himself to remember. Thoughts of someone else, an older white-haired man, entered his mind. His dad. He knew he had to pull himself together. "Please, 'Manda, I'm okay. Have to stay, have to help…" Steve whispered, but he meant what he said. He was slowly remembering more and the memories of these two friends were returning and he knew their names. "It's been kind of rough, but I have to help the people here…."

Before Amanda could say another word, Dr. Beattie entered the room.

"I'm sorry to interrupt this, but Steve needs his rest. As a doctor, I'm sure you understand this." Beattie smiled coldly at Amanda.

"Yes, I do, but I want to know what's wrong with him. He's not himself."

"No he's not! He's my brother and I want to know what the hell you're doing to him." Jesse spoke with an unusual amount of anger in his voice. Amanda was surprised and impressed, but she knew Jesse's worry wasn't an act. "What's with the bandaid? How did he get hurt?"

"Unfortunately he had a bit of a fall, but he's okay. It happens from time to time. He's undergoing some treatment to control his moods and this can cause clumsiness. You've put him in our care and you have to trust us. If you want your brother to recover, then you need to leave him with us and not upset him." Beattie spoke calmly and coolly.

"Upset him? That's got to be a joke!" Jesse's voice rose with anger. "Look at him! He's completely zoned out!"

Steve shook his head slowly. He was becoming more aware each moment and he didn't want Jesse and Amanda to pull him out just yet. He had no proof that anything untoward had happened. Or did he? He was so confused. Didn't he want to go home? Hadn't he tried to tell them who he was? Or did he have to stay, he had a job to do. Maybe this was normal….although somehow he didn't think it was. How he wished his head was clearer and he could focus or make a decision.

"I'm not sure who authorized your visit, Mr. Richards, but it's early days. Please leave us, and don't visit again until next Friday. You'll see him settled down and less confused by then."

Amanda had been watching Steve's expression as the argument raged. She was a little comforted by a slight spark returning to his tired eyes, and how he met her stare pleadingly. He obviously knew who they were, even though he was far from himself. She wasn't at all happy with the situation but she realized it wasn't going to be possible to get Steve out of there, not until he was willing to cooperate or unless they were prepared to break his cover. It was with very mixed feelings that she conceded this, and she had no idea what they were going to say to Mark. They could hardly state truthfully Steve was in the best of health and she knew he would have a fit if he saw his son in this condition. But he had improved just slightly, even during their brief visit.

"Jesse, let's go." She tried to ignore the incredulous look Jesse gave her. "Come on!" She grabbed Jesse's arm and dragged him out of the room before she could change her mind. Conversation was non-existent until they got to Jesse's car.

"What are you doing, Amanda? You saw him! We can't leave him there!"

"We can't drag him out unwillingly either! He made it clear he wanted to stay and I think we have to respect that." But Amanda was already having her doubts.

"What are you going to tell Mark when he asks how his son is?" Jesse was still astounded by Amanda's reaction, but he also knew she was right. If Steve was unwilling to cooperate, they would have a lot of trouble getting him out of there without blowing his cover which could prove very risky.

Amanda sighed sadly. "I don't know, Jesse, but I do know we shouldn't wait to visit Steve. I suggest we visit him tomorrow and if we're still worried, then we blow open this whole thing."

Jesse was still troubled. "They've told us we're not to visit him until next week. How can we leave him here? Leave him like that? He's so defenseless."

"Does it occur to you that Steve might have been acting? That he's really okay?" Amanda really didn't believe it but she was trying to convince herself.

Jesse shook his head. "No way, he's been heavily drugged. I can't imagine what he's been given but it seems more than normal sedation. He couldn't put on an act like that, did you see his pupils? He barely recognized us when we first got there. You didn't answer my question either. What are we going to tell Mark?"

"The truth. We can't lie to him and we need to get him out." Amanda was deep in thought as she tried to work out a plan. Jesse was right; they couldn't leave Steve in there. If they blew the investigation, so be it. Steve's life was more important than anything else. If things did blow up, and a scandal was caused, it would cause the medical authorities to look into the activities of the Institution and that is what was needed.

Jesse was surprised by the turnaround but didn't question it. He wanted his best friend out of there and safe, even if Steve did get angry with them. "Any ideas how we'll get him out?"

Amanda grinned wryly. "I was hoping you'd come up with something. But I'm sure Mark will know, so let's go see him. He'll be going nuts with worry and will know what to do…."

Newman had tried to contact the police officer at the Hampstead Institute unsuccessfully. It wasn't making him feel better, and on top of the conversation he had just held with Mark, he had a strong feeling that they needed to bring this to an end.

Mickey was feeling slightly uneasy by the visitors as he had some misgivings about who they claimed to be. Something wasn't sitting right with him and he had a strong sense they were going to ruin everything and he needed to talk to Beattie. He took a quick look at his patient but Steve was still lying there, unwilling or unable to move. He left the room in search of the doctor.

Steve's mind had cleared slightly after his friends had left, and he was remembering the job he had to do. He knew something had happened, something bad, but he had to do his job. Or had he done his job? This wasn't normal was it? Memories of the fragile girl, Elsa, and the other lost souls, were coming back. He knew he had to help them. But the effort to move or to think seemed enormous. Perhaps if he rested just a little more….He closed his eyes with a sigh.

"We should give him another dose!" Mickey was trying to convince the doctor.

"I disagree and I'm the doctor. He's had two doses in a short period of time, not to mention the normal sedation. I think I made a mistake with giving him medication too close to the normal sedation, that's why he was asleep for so long. I think we should wait another 24 hours at least." Beattie snapped back.

"I'm betting his family are going to want him discharged. You saw their reactions. If you want to see how your drugs go, you can't waste any time. What have you got to lose? Either they'll work or they won't. You want to know how far you can go with them." Mickey was convinced they needed to act while they could.

Beattie was also slightly concerned at the reactions of Richards brother and doctor. Ideally he would have preferred to wait but perhaps Mickey was right, they needed to act now. Richards was undoubtedly the strongest and fittest subject he had. If anyone was going to survive another dose, it would be this man.

"Okay, we'll try again."

Mickey couldn't hide his elation as they walked back to their patient.

"Move him to the other room first, I don't want any questions asked," Beattie whispered. Mickey grinned, he was going to enjoy himself.

"Wakey, wakey, sleeping beauty…." He mocked.

Steve had fallen asleep but at the words he opened his eyes reluctantly.

"Nooooo…." He protested quietly as Mickey pulled him up and assisted him to a wheelchair. He knew it was wrong but he was too sleepy to resist much and his head fell backwards as he was wheeled out of the room. He and Mickey were both unaware of a pair of eyes watching them carefully as he was wheeled down the corridor.

Steve was aware that he needed to escape, to fight, but he just couldn't summon the energy and he closed his eyes again and he kept them closed this time when he was pushed into the small examination room.

Mickey hooked his arm under Steve's, and half lifted him onto the narrow gurney.

Steve was only barely aware of being placed back on the bed and legs lifted up, but he winced slightly as he felt the straps being pulled over his body to hold him in place. He opened his eyes and winced as they were secured very tightly again. Before he could protest, the large cloth was placed back in his mouth and taped down and the straps were then pulled over his head and tightened. Oh God, not again…. Once again he was at the mercy of his evil doctor and orderly. He only flinched slightly as the needle once again was pressed into his neck. Beattie sat back to watch. His patient had been given a great deal of his medication in a short period of time, it would be interesting to see what happened.


	9. Chapter 9

Sorry about being so mean to Steve, I can't seem to help myself.

Thank you for those who are following the story.

Same disclaimers – story for entertainment only, no profit being made and characters don't belong to me.

For some reason, I am having some difficulties with formatting the story, but I am hoping it is still okay to read.

Chapter 9

Mark was appalled at what Amanda and Jesse told him.

"It's hard to know what's going on there," Jesse mused. "But he's certainly been drugged. It was almost like he didn't recognize us."

"But he said he wanted to stay?" Mark was incredulous.

"Ummm, kind of…" Jesse broke off and exchanged a glance with Amanda.

"Yes he was quite insistent, but the more I think about it the more worried I am. He definitely wasn't his usual self. I think we need to get him out of there, regardless of what he says. He's not going to be able to protect himself if he needs to." Amanda had been feeling uneasy since they left him, and she now had a very strong sense that they had to bring this to an end. The vision of the normally strong Steve's white, strained and haunted face just wouldn't leave her and she suspected it would plague her for awhile.

Mark looked at Jesse who nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, we don't know what they're doing there. He's certainly been sedated but his lethargy seemed pretty extreme for normal sedation." Mark had picked up the phone even before Jesse finished speaking. He trusted both of his friends implicitly, personally and professionally, and if they were concerned about his son's condition, then he knew he had to react.

"Captain Newman, please," Mark spoke to the phone.

Turning to Jesse and Amanda while he waited, he continued, "I want my son out of there now. If he's being drugged, then he's not safe." Mark sighed. He took some solace from the fact Steve hadn't been in the institution for very long. Although the days had been endless for an anxious father, it had only been three days. Hopefully no irreversible damage had been caused. He started speaking as Newman came on the line.

"Yes, I understand. Well that means we need to break his cover. He's not safe," Mark barked into the phone. "Sorry, Captain, but we will be there!" Mark hung up and turned to face his friends.

"Apparently Steve's back up hasn't reported in, so it's over. Newman is pulling them out." Mark spoke grimly. "But I want to be there to get my son."

"I'll drive," Jesse said and Amanda nodded.

"It's okay, Mark, we'll go get him," Amanda said in her gentle voice.

Mark half smiled, always grateful for his friends' support.

"Let's go."

Steve was groaning. As the chemicals circulated through his system, the burning sensation was becoming intense. The feeling of needing to move built up in him, making him restless and agitated. Initially very sleepy, his eyes shot open as he began pulling on his restraints. They held him firmly and his groans grew louder into his gag as the straps prevented any movement. His heart now thumping wildly, the panic threatened to overwhelm him at the realization he was trapped. Instincts telling him to run, but he couldn't, yet he continued to struggle against his captivity. His groans were becoming muffled yells as his desperation grew.

Beattie and Mickey were watching his reactions with interest, particularly Beattie. It was clear Richards was in considerable distress, physically and mentally highly agitated, and it was fascinating to watch. All of his subjects reacted differently and he couldn't predict what would happen, which is why he needed a strong test subject. The idea behind the drugs was to control behavior, to stimulate the depressed brain and control moods but it was experimental and hard to judge the right dosages. It was his own mixture of drugs, and he was bypassing the drug companies to experiment. He used medication to stimulate depressed patients, then to calm them down, it was a delicate balance that he had failed to get right.

"He's making a lot of noise, do you want me to quieten him down?" Mickey asked eagerly.

Beattie glanced at him with distaste before turning his attention back to his patient.

"No, leave him be….not going to give him anything else just yet."

Beattie was impressed with his patient, and still surprised at the level of fight being shown. With Richards, he had undoubtedly the strongest test case he had to date, the fight in this patient was impressive and his current reaction was not expected. If he had been asked to predict, he would have assumed he would be sluggish and depressed especially as there had not been a lot of time between injections, but it was the opposite. This patient's brain and body was certainly showing signs of being over stimulated which means he had clearly miscalculated again. He wondered if he tried to settle him down what would happen. But he was more interested to see how long this strong patient could go on fighting. He walked over to him, looking down into the terrified Steve's eyes that were unwittingly pleading for help.

Steve thought his chest was bursting and he strained upwards into the leather straps and he was trying to do the same with his legs. Everything in him was telling him to break free and he was incapable of stopping his actions. Beattie could see by his rapidly rising chest that the panic was building momentum, but he just watched, making no attempt to provide any assistance or comfort. He also observed the clenching and unclenching of Steve's hands, visible signs of the battle raging in him. He really hoped this patient would be strong enough to survive this next round of his experimental drugs. As he watched the wrenching of Steve's body, he had no doubt of his physical strength and fitness. He watched dispassionately as the straps cut into the writhing body. Writhing as much as he could anyway with the very limited movement available to him. There was no doubt if he could escape, there would be trouble.

Steve stared into the cold eyes of the doctor, pleading with him for help and he continued to groan into his gag, wanting to plead for help. He had no idea what was going on with him, every nerve ending in him was tingling and painful and his body urging him to move, if only he could. The fact he couldn't added to his growing frenzy. He twitched and trembled and jerked up, but the restraints held him in place. Whatever he did, nothing made any difference and he felt his mind whirling rapidly as his instincts continued to fight to break free. Sweat started pouring off his face as his torment continued. His mind told him to stop but his body was still fighting automatically, despite the pain he was causing himself as the leather cut savagely into him. Images flashed through his mind of a grey haired man, of his friends, cruel pictures of them laughing at him. In his mind they were ignoring him and it added to his overwhelming despair. _Why…_ He closed his eyes, not wanting to see them anymore, but still the images pervaded his mind and he couldn't lose the vision of people laughing and mocking him. His breathing grew faster and heavier, the misery continuing as the drugs continued to grip him. Stop…he wanted and needed it to stop…

Mickey chuckled at the obvious increasing wretchedness. The sounds of his laughter floating through Steve's tortured mind and added fuel to his hallucinations. Beattie just watched him, hiding his own excitement. The war being fought in front of him showed no sign of stopping although it was clear his patient was physically tiring. It was exciting for him to witness the skirmish of a strong subject versus his cocktail of drugs. He'd not come across such a strong test case before.

"Shall I let him loose?" Mickey asked.

Beattie looked at him. "Are you serious? Look at him, he'll hurt himself or others…."

Steve's body continued to jerk and strain, he was oblivious to the voices, his own mind focused only on trying to dislodge his restraints and to escape. He had no idea how long he had been there, it could have been minutes or hours. He was trapped in his painfilled world, with no thoughts of anything other than wanting to escape the pain, to run, for it to end. People were laughing at him and he couldn't understand why when he hurt so much. But his body was finally starting to weaken and tire. The yelling into his gag had quietened to groans again, his twitching was slowing down for the simple reason his body was exhausting itself. It was a tortuous battle between his mind and his drained body. His mind very overstimulated in flight mode still, but his body just wearing out as it reached his endurance point.

Beattie was impressed that he had kept going solidly for nearly two hours. He was indeed a fit and strong subject. None of the others had lasted so long, but then again he had not kept them restrained. Some had taken leaps to their deaths at this point, and it was obvious to the doctor that this patient would do the same if he was released. How much further could he be pushed? He was excited at the prospect.

"What about now?" Mickey was excited and wanted to continue to torture his patient. The arrogance was gone but he wouldn't mind betting there was still some defiance there. He looked at the tired bleary eyes and could be sure he saw a hint of something even though the struggling had ceased, leaving Steve sweat soaked and limp with exhaustion. His breathing still too rapid and his thoughts were still muddled but he had no more physical energy.

Beattie continued to watch, without making any comment. Although clearly worn out, his patient was strong and fit and he didn't want him to self harm. He detected something in the eyes too but he wasn't sure what it was.

Steve lay weakened and spent, he had at last given up fighting. Physically he was depleted completely, but mentally his mind was still confused and erratic and refused to slow down. His thoughts were chaotic, remembering people laughing at him, wanting to hurt him and a rage was slowly starting to burn in him.

Beattie watched him for a few seconds before giving the nod to Mickey. Making a decision based on the thought he would be able to restrain his physically debilitated patient if needed, it would be interesting to see how he reacted.

Mickey grinned again as he leaned over Steve and released the strap holding his head down, then removed the tape and gag, and the strap around his chest and legs. Steve took a shuddering breath with relief but he made no initial attempt to move, his body had been pushed too far. His mind was confused, the images of people hurting him, holding him down were overwhelming him. After using all of his strength in battling the restraints, Steve was simply worn out.

Beattie walked over to his patient, observing him carefully. There were very deep indents and marks where the restraints had held him, indicating the strength that had been used trying to escape, but now Steve now made no effort to move. He could only look at the doctor in quiet despair. He remained silent as the doctor examined him carefully.

"Looks like the fight has gone…." Before Beattie could finish his statement he heard the commotion of people's voices.

"Damn, what's going on? Can you go find out?" Beattie asked Mickey. "I need to stay here".

"They won't find us here, doc. No one comes back here but I'll go check what's happening." Mickey agreed. "Think you can handle him?" he chuckled as he looked at the prone figure.

"Just go! Shut the door behind you, maybe they won't find us here." Beattie snapped.

Mickey shrugged as he left the room. He hoped nothing was going to ruin his fun.


	10. Chapter 10

Usual disclaimers, characters aren't mine, story is for entertainment only and no profit being made.

Chapter Ten

Mickey walked quietly to the main area, curious as to what the commotion was all about and his heart sank when he saw a group of uniformed police officers amongst the group of people. Also present was Richards' brother and family doctor. Dammit, he grimaced. He just knew this problem patient was going to bring him trouble, but it would be nothing to what he would do to him if he had another chance. Trying to creep back quietly, he was appalled when Dr Harvey pointed her finger at him.

"I'm sure he's involved, he knows what's going on!"

"Where is he!" A tall elderly white-haired man burst forward and with surprising speed grabbed the shocked Mickey.

"I don't know what you mean…" Mickey stammered.

"My son, where is my son!" Mark rarely raised his voice but his anxiety about his son outweighed everything including remaining calm and composed.

Mickey was surrounded by police officers and unable to escape. Shrugging mentally, but promising revenge on Richards one day, he conceded defeat.

"He's in the basement," His wrists were quickly handcuffed and he was vaguely aware his rights were being read to him but he was more focused on his anger and planned revenge. As he watched the young doctor nodding her head indicating she knew where the basement area was, he decided to include her in his revenge.

Beattie had been observing his dispirited patient and was growing slightly concerned that he'd got it wrong yet again. After such a struggle, he was wondering at why Richards appeared to have given up. Despite this, the doctor was sure he detected some defiance left in his patient, so he was wondering what was going on and he was puzzled about his reactions. It was definitely worth noting. He was also aware that Mickey hadn't yet returned and it was worrying him. As much as he disliked the cruel Mickey, he knew the fact he hadn't come back to assist was possibly a sign of trouble.

Making a sudden and unexpected decision, he decided he would make a run for it. If things were okay, he could always come back. With a quick regretful glance towards Richards, he left the room. The sound of voices coming his way seemed to indicate he'd made the right decision and he carefully made his way to the emergency exit and walked out.

Mark was beside himself as they made their way downstairs and as Dr Harvey pointed to the small room, it was with difficulty he stopped himself from barging forward, knowing he needed to remain back as the police officers entered.

"It's clear!" when he heard the words he propelled himself forward and into the room.

"Oh my God, Steve…." Mark whispered, appalled and horrified at the sight of his clearly heavily drugged son. He touched his face very gently with shaking hands. Steve was catatonic with his lack of response. His face was white and strained, black circles under his eyes which were clearly unfocussed, his body still sweaty and his breathing still too rapid after his long agonized battle. Indentations where the straps had cut into him, even on his forehead. Mark had to fight back nausea as he catalogued the injuries he could see. He shuddered to think of what he couldn't see.

"Steve, son, talk to me," Mark whispered as he touched Steve's forehead.

Steve initially was calm and oblivious as the room around him had burst into chaos and he remained subdued as Mark tried to communicate with him.

Mark looked at Jesse who was equally appalled at the poor condition of his friend.

"We need an ambulance…" Mark barked.

"I'm getting the syringe taken back to Community General too, so we can see what the drugs are," Amanda spoke softly as Mark and Jesse were quickly examining Steve, who had remained apathetic. He showed no signs of recognition, although he was awake, and it was worrying all the doctors.

Whispered voices around him though were beginning to permeate Steve's consciousness and he turned his head away, longing for some peace. The noises were too loud, and despite being spent with exhaustion, Steve twisted restlessly and without restraints to hold him, he soon fell off the gurney hitting the ground hard.

"STEVE!" Mark immediately leaned down to help but Steve had started to panic.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO" he shouted as he stumbled away from the hands reaching out to him.

Mark recognized the genuine distress, and although not sure what was causing it, he cursed under his breath at the doctor who brought this about. His son had obviously been heavily drugged but there were no drugs that he could name that would cause this sort of reaction. What the hell had he been through? He had to fight down on a rapidly building inner rage.

"Steve, it's okay, it's me your dad", Mark gestured with his hands behind him, trying to indicate that no one else should approach them and shook his head at Jesse. His son was in a major panic and he thought it was best that only he dealt with it so he didn't get even more overwhelmed. Steve was breathing hard, sweating, but he clearly had no idea who they were, and he looked terrified. Mark's heart broke, his son's expression reminded him of the little boy he'd once been and it was unnerving seeing this scared expression in the adult Steve. Steve spun around unexpectedly, his eyes lighting on the tray of medical supplies. Before anyone could stop him, he found the strength from somewhere to reach for it and suddenly he had a pair of surgical scissors in his hands.

Mark was horrified when he saw what he had grabbed but continued to gesture wildly behind his back to stop people approaching.

"Steve, it's okay," Mark repeated calmly. "Please put them down, they're very sharp," He spoke gently but firmly.

Steve shook his head, confused by the sudden pandemonium surrounding him. He was encircled by people and this man was talking to him. Surely he didn't mean to hurt him. But everyone hurt him, didn't they? He blinked blearily, trying to clear his vision. Everything hurt… There seemed to be three tall white-haired men approaching him and he felt very threatened and cornered.

"Stay back." Steve barely whispered but he waved the scissors about strongly.

"Steve, please put the knife down. I'm not going to hurt you, son. I promise." Mark spoke calmly, trying not to panic himself as Steve drew the sharp edge of scissors against his own wrist. He pressed it in slowly, causing a rivulet of blood to trickle out. Mark fought his instincts to race at Steve; if Steve pressed in too hard, he could cause himself to bleed to death before help could be provided.

"Everyone hurts me." Steve sobbed as he watched the blood trickling down and cut in slightly deeper. He didn't seem to be watching Mark but as Mark got closer, he lunged forward, plunging the scissors into Mark's side. Steve watched stunned and appalled as Mark staggered back. His mind was suddenly clear again and he watched in horror his father collapse, and knowing he'd caused it. Crying out in pain, Steve allowed himself to collapse as people swarmed forward.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Jesse and Amanda watched in horror as Steve plunged the scissors into Mark and then collapsed. Jesse ran to Mark, and Amanda ran to Steve, both completely shocked and appalled by the unexpected turn of events.

"Call 911, we need to get them both to Community General." Jesse tried to stem the Mark's blood flow. Even though the Hampstead Institution was a hospital, it was a psychiatric hospital, and he knew Mark would need the state-of-the-art operating theatres of Community General, and he just wanted Steve well away from it. God only knew what they had done to him to cause him to stab his own much-loved father. He didn't let himself think too much, knowing he had to focus on Mark and that Amanda would be taking care of Steve.

Amanda was trying to ward off the people from Steve. "No! Leave him alone! He's going to Community General too."

"He's a dangerous man and he belongs here. We can treat him." One of the other doctors had come in but Amanda glared at him.

"He's not a dangerous man, something has happened to him and I will _not_ be leaving him here. He's a police officer and has been working undercover and there was nothing wrong with him until he got here. Now leave us alone!" Amanda snapped angrily.

"I'm sorry, lady, but he just stabbed a man! There's clearly a problem with him." the doctor tried to push his way towards Steve.

"GET BACK!" Amanda was furious. Jesse looked up momentarily, but it was clear she had things under control. "I'm not sure what's gone on here, but he is not violent or dangerous, and he will be taken to Community General! Please, Captain Newman, clear this room!"

Newman nodded to his officers who commenced moving the crowd away. He too was stunned by the scene and he could only hope that the Sloans would survive.

"How is he?" After checking Steve's vitals and making sure he was breathing, Amanda could do little until the paramedics arrived to take him to Community General. She had no idea what drugs were in his system and as long as he was stable, she couldn't do much until he was safely away. She stroked Steve's forehead gently, as she watched Jesse's frantic first aid motions to help Mark. She looked down at the now peaceful face of her friend, shuddering to think what would happen when he realized what he'd done, and even worse, if Mark didn't make it. Having no idea what Steve had been given, she wasn't even sure he would make it. His breathing rate was shallow and rapid, although currently stable.

Jesse was pale and tense as he looked up. "He's losing a lot of blood…"

He was interrupted by the arrival of the ambulance.

No one tried to stop Jesse as he assisted with loading Mark in the ambulance, but it wasn't quite so easy for Amanda. It was clear the institute staff didn't want Steve to be taken away.

"For the last time, he's a dangerous man, he needs to be here!"

"Forget it, he's going to Community General too." Amanda snapped.

The Chief Medical Officer of Hampstead said they hadn't heard the end of this.

"You bet your life this isn't the end of it! But it _is_ the end of Steve's time here!" Amanda hissed back.

oooooo

Amanda sat by Steve's bed, holding his hand, still utterly horrified and shocked at what had happened. Steve had started showing signs of regaining consciousness and she needed to be there when he woke up. She couldn't even imagine what he had been through and, with Jesse still in surgery with Mark, she knew it was important that a friendly face was there when he did finally open his eyes. The vial she'd brought back had been tested and it was an extremely volatile mixture of anti-psychotic medication that was not designed to be taken together and Steve's blood tests had shown a high level in his system. His heart monitor showed his vitals stabilizing slowly, although his pulse and blood pressure was still far too high. The fact he was showing signs of waking up, seemed promising although it was still a waiting game, and the emotional damage caused by his outrageous treatment was a whole other ballgame. She looked at him sleeping, and wasn't sure how they were going to help him understand what had happened and why he'd stabbed his father.

Jesse finally joined them. He looked exhausted but he managed a weak grin.

"Mark's out of surgery. He lost a lot of blood but fortunately the stabbing missed vital organs. He's going to be sore and sorry for awhile, but he'll be okay." Jesse whispered, also looking at the inert face of his best friend. They were all going to have a rough time coming to terms with this one.

Amanda sighed. "Thank God… hey, Steve…" She leaned forward as she saw Steve trying to open his eyes.

Steve looked at Amanda and Jesse, completely baffled as to what happened. He felt heavy and dazed but he looked around the room. His dad? Where was his dad?

"Dad? Where's dad?" Steve could barely whisper. "What happened…"

"It's okay, Steve, really it is. Everything is going to be fine." Amanda spoke soothingly. Steve was slightly agitated but relaxed under her calming voice.

Jesse moved quickly over to him. "Hey, buddy, how are you doing?" Jesse asked, but Steve was fading out already.

"Dad….where's dad…" Steve whispered as he drifted off again. Jesse and Amanda exchanged concerned glances.

"I'm going to run a few checks on him," Jesse buzzed the nurse to come in.

"Not entirely surprised he doesn't remember what happened, but at least he did wake up." Amanda nodded in agreement and she thought that it was probably best if Steve was stronger before he did recall the horrific events. She continued to hold his hand as Jesse examined him.

After he finished, Jesse wrote a few notes in the chart.

"Jess?" Amanda was concerned at his serious countenance.

Jesse sighed. "His blood pressure is still very high, as is pulse rate, but until he's fully awake, it's impossible to know what's been done. Have you heard any details about his treatments? Or what happened to him?"

"No, Cheryl is still talking to the institute and getting details. But he's been through hell, that's obvious." Amanda stroked Steve's head as he stirred.

"I can't believe he stabbed Mark…" Jesse's voice broke.

"But it wasn't his fault, you know that!" Amanda rebuked gently.

"I know, but I just spent a tough couple of hours in surgery with Mark. I'm sure he's going to be okay but the injuries he sustained are nothing to sneeze at, especially in a man of his age. I was so angry…" Jesse faltered. "but then I remembered the condition Steve was in and I….I never thought I was capable of killing anyone but if I had a chance with that quack who did this….I don't know how Steve is going to forgive himself."

Amanda stood up and hugged him. "I know, I understand your confusion and emotions. But we've got to be strong for them both. Mark won't blame him, but Steve's certainly going to blame himself."

Amanda sat down again, taking hold of Steve's hand. "I don't know how we're going to get through this, but we will and Mark will help Steve. I have to believe that."

"I'm going back to check on Mark in Recovery. I'll be back once I've made sure everything is still okay." Jesse said softly.

00000

When Jesse returned, he found Amanda still sitting by Steve's bed, holding his hand and whispering to their sleeping friend everything would be okay. She looked up at his arrival and he grinned weakly.

"Yeah, he's still fine, everything is stabilizing nicely."

Steve was becoming aware of voices and he slowly opened his eyes. Although his vision remained blurry, he could see the outlines of his friends talking softly.

"Dad?" he whispered.

"Just relax Steve…." Amanda gently touched his forehead. But Steve's mind was a bit clearer this time and he had a sinking feeling that something was very wrong. Images were flashing through his mind, memories of his captivity although he couldn't quite get his mind to work. He looked at his bandaged wrist knowing something truly appalling had happened.

He shook his head. "Where's dad? He's always here when I'm sick or hurt." A violent and vivid flashback hit Steve and he recoiled from Amanda's gentle contact.

"Oh my God! I stabbed him!" Steve sat up, fighting against the dizziness and weakness. "Where is he? Please, oh please tell me I didn't kill him." Steve was aghast at the memory as images started to weave through his mind. No….No….his brain screamed as realization returned but when Amanda pulled him into her arms he made no initial attempt to pull away.

Jesse bit down on his lip at Steve's obvious distress and shock. "He'll be okay, Steve. He's in Recovery right now as we had to operate, but he really will be okay."

Steve pulled away from Amanda's embrace and lay back down. The expression on his face was stricken and horrified. "I stabbed my dad, Jess, how will everything be okay?" After a couple of minutes uncomfortable silence, Steve spoke again. "I need to see him. I don't know what to say to him, but I really need to see him."

Jesse nodded his head. He wasn't surprised and he also knew if they tried to stop him, Steve would find his own way down to Recovery. He brought in a wheelchair that had been sitting outside his door but he wasn't prepared for Steve's strong reaction. Steve looked at it in revulsion and shook his head.

"I'm not using that!"

"Sorry, Steve, hospital rules. Besides which, I think you'll find you don't have the strength to make it on your own. Please, humor us." Jesse's face was uncharacteristically serious with no teasing in his voice at all.

Steve knew he was being stupid as he sat up feeling very dizzy and he was also astonishingly weak. He was aware that he almost certainly couldn't walk any distance unaided so he may as well give in gracefully as he wanted and needed to see his dad. Amanda and Jesse helped him out of bed and into the chair, exchanging glances at Steve's flinching as he sat down. They wondered at his reactions, but they weren't about to ask him any difficult questions.

"What happened to me?" Steve's words were soft as he was wheeled out of his room.

Amanda responded equally quietly. "You were given a mixture of psychiatric drugs that were never meant to be combined. You're lucky to be alive…" She couldn't continue.

"Yeah, real lucky…That's why I stabbed my dad." Steve went silent, still grappling with the enormous repugnance of what he had done.

"It wasn't your fault, Steve. No one could have resisted those drugs and you thought Mark was attacking you. You were probably hallucinating," Jesse spoke up, wanting to comfort his best friend but knowing it was impossible.

"My dad, the best dad in the world who has never hurt a living soul. How could I be so drugged that I would hurt him?" Steve bit back a sob. The whole scenario was a nightmare.

"Steve, it was the drugs, not you. You know your dad won't blame you and the important thing is you're both going to be okay. It might take some time to come to terms with…." Amanda spoke firmly.

"Come to terms with stabbing my wonderful dad! Yeah, it might take some time. It would have been better had I not made it. He wouldn't be where he is if I hadn't." Steve couldn't be comforted and didn't want to feel better, especially as he was wheeled into the room where his father lay recovering. He gasped at the machine Mark was hooked up to, and the IV drip and the fact his father looked every bit his age.

"Steve, don't think that for one moment. None of us, especially your dad, would ever think that." Jesse said strongly. He exchanged a worried glance with Amanda. "You know that's true, so don't go there, buddy."

"Jess, he looks terrible…" Steve whispered, giving no indication whether he heard Jesse's words.

Jesse was well aware of the lack of acknowledgement but he was also aware that it was going to take Mark to get through to Steve, so he didn't push the matter. "Don't panic, Steve. We've got him hooked up to a heart monitor as a precaution. We have no reason to worry, he's come through surgery with flying colors."

Steve shook his head. "I guess this is what he feels like when he sees me lying helpless in bed."

"Yeah, and he's had to see that lots of time!" Jesse quipped.

"But I've never been in the hospital because of him. I did this, Jess; it's my fault he's here. He didn't want me to take the case but I just had to." Steve took hold of Mark's hand and rubbed it gently. "I wish I could turn back time."

Jesse and Amanda exchanged another sad glance. They knew there was little more they could say. It was going to take Mark to help Steve through this. They both knew he wouldn't blame Steve for his injury, but it was going to take him to convince his stubborn son of this fact. They decided to leave them alone for awhile.

Steve drifted off to sleep holding Mark's hand. Mark opened his eyes, startled and confused at the pain he was in. He looked over and saw his son and memories came flashing back. He squeezed Steve's hand and Steve was awake instantly.

"I'm sorry, dad." Steve whispered.

Mark just grinned tiredly at him. "It's okay, Steve…." But he drifted off almost immediately.

Steve watched him sleep and for the first time he understood how his father felt when he was in the hospital. The helplessness, the frustration and the fear. Maybe it was time to make some changes.


	12. Chapter 12

Apologies to those who have been reading this. I am sorry for the long delay, I usually like to post more frequently. I have had some MAJOR internet hassles but I am hoping they are over with now. I have more stories that I intend to post – I am enjoying taking a break from real life😊

Thank you to those who have reviewed or PM'd me.

Chapter 12 - FINAL

"Sorry, buddy, you need to rest too," Jesse said as he came to take Steve back to his room. He'd been with Mark for a couple of hours and Mark was resting and recovering well, but Steve was neither.

"I can't believe dad is in hospital because of me,' he whispered as Jesse wheeled him out of the room.

"It's not your fault, Steve, you know that and he's not going to blame you," Jesse said positively.

"So much was a blur, but I knew they were doing bad things. Why didn't I stop it? Why didn't I ask you to get me out?" Steve spoke softly.

"You wanted to help people and the drugs you were taking were messing with your mind. No-one could have had that sort of drug given to them and been unaffected," Jesse stopped as he helped Steve back to his bed. He remained very concerned about his friend as he watched him lie back and try to get comfortable. His face was still very pale and he had dark circles under his eyes. "Mark's doing really well and will be out of ICU very soon and we're going to move him in with you. You need to talk to him."

Steve made no response as he closed his eyes. All he wanted to do was sleep although he knew he had some decisions to make.

Amanda had entered the room at this time, and repeated what Jesse had said.

"Yes, Steve, you need to talk to Mark," she said gently. She glanced at Jesse as Steve remained silent. Shrugging sadly, they left him alone to sleep.

ooo

Mark was released from ICU and moved into his room, his recovery was going well thanks to his normal good health and physical strength. But he, Jesse and Amanda remained very concerned about Steve's continuing difficulties.

Physically Steve had come through quite well, but he was far from himself.

The most surprising element was Steve himself, and his lack of arguments concerning staying in hospital. His blood pressure had remained very high, and they wanted to keep him in until it stabilized, which it eventually did. The concern stemmed from his lack of argument about being kept in.

The main worry over Steve's conditions was the flashbacks and the uncertainty of what the drugs had done to him but they seem to have been relatively lucky as far as longer term physical issues. He remained uncharacteristically jumpy and nervous but he showed no inclination to talk about why or what had happened. Even after Mark was moved into his room, he'd remained uncommunicative about what he'd gone through, just focusing on being with his dad and keeping an eye on him.

On the surface he seemed okay, and he laughed and joked with Jesse, and was seemingly very relieved when he found out that a full investigation would be made into the Hampstead Institution. A far more thorough one than had happened in the past. Even though it appeared as if Beattie and the orderly were the culprits, the system that had allowed such an abuse needed to be looked closely at. But his father and friends saw a shadow in his eyes when he thought they weren't looking and noted with dismay his complete lack of willingness to talk about what had happened. Steve could be very stubborn when it came to talking about things that affected him and he had totally shut down about this most recent ordeal.

The young Dr Harvey had filled them in on some of the behavior modification techniques that Beattie had used and Mark was filled with anger at the cruel Beattie and Mickey in particular. She'd been reporting back to a LAPD officer who'd been working there as security but she'd not had anything concrete to report initially. He was grateful to the young doctor for her observations but he knew there were things that she probably didn't know about. Certainly the mixture of drugs used on Steve, and almost certainly the other patients, were highly unusual and not designed to work together. It was only luck that Steve had survived being given them, luck and his personal physical and mental strength.

Mark always hated to see his son suffering in anyway, and it was high time they talked. It was their first day at home alone, as Jesse had stayed with them for a couple of nights just to make sure they were both okay. He was going to bring dinner round to them that evening with Amanda, but he had returned to work and moved back to his own apartment so life was reverting to normal, or it should have been. Steve was now hovering over him every bit as much as Mark hovered over him at times. Physically Steve was fine, it was his emotional well-being that remained of great worry. Mark was amused by his fussing at first, but he soon started to feel frustrated. He was also irked with Steve's determined effort to keep their talk at bay, as when cornered Steve claimed tiredness and withdrew to his bedroom. He certainly looked exhausted still but there was no doubt he was trying to dodge a difficult conversation. Mark was supposed to be lying down, but he couldn't settle and when he looked out at the beach and saw Steve sitting on the sand, he knew it was time to talk.

Mark was still in some pain, although he'd never admit it, and certainly not to his son, and he made his way slowly to where Steve was sitting. He was so deep in thought that he didn't hear Mark's approach until he sat down next to him.

"Dad! You shouldn't be out here, you should be resting. Come on, let's get you back to the house."

"No, Steve, I want to sit out here with you and talk." Mark watched the guarded look come into Steve's face.

"What do you want to talk about?" Steve was slightly defensive.

"Just things, what's going on with you, how you're doing. It seems we haven't really talked since this nightmare began and I don't really know everything you went through."

Steve sighed. "I'm sorry, dad. I didn't mean to shut you out but I've had some things to think about. I don't regret helping the patients and I know things will be easier for them now, but it was rough, really rough. I don't even regret what they did to me, I have recovered…" He grinned slightly at his dad. Mark wasn't entirely convinced but he knew better than to interrupt. Physical recovery didn't mean emotional recovery and that was where his son was still struggling. That much was very obvious to everyone who cared about him. "I truly don't remember a lot but I do remember feeling worthless but if me going through that makes life better for those still there, then it was worth it. If it makes it harder for them to be abused and used as lab rats, then it was worthwhile," Steve paused for a moment. "What I am struggling with is the fact I stabbed you and it has brought me to a decision. I'm quitting the department. I'm going to work full time at Barbecue Bob's," Steve was looking out to the ocean, not wanting to see his father's reaction.

Mark was stunned. He hadn't seen that coming! "What? Why are you quitting?" He thought he could guess but he needed to get everything out in the open so his son could start to heal and forgive himself. He kicked himself for not realizing the depth of Steve's pain.

"I think you know why. I'm tired, dad, and I know you worry about me, but the worst thing is this case I was on….you were hurt because of it, because of me. I can't forgive myself for stabbing you." Steve bit back a sob. He hated feeling this emotional but this was a life changing decision.

"If I can forgive you, why can't you forgive yourself?" Mark asked quietly.

"Because I have nightmares of you in the hospital, hooked up to machines and looking so pale and ill. Even now you don't look well and it's my fault. You didn't want me to take the case… I stabbed you, dad."

"I have nightmares often, Steve, of you in the hospital fighting for your life. But I wouldn't have you any other way. I know I wish sometimes you had a safer job, but the fact is I love you as you are and I don't want you giving up anything. I'm glad I was there! You could have slit your wrists…." Mark's voice faltered at the memory and gently lifted Steve's hand. He traced the scar that was still there as a reminder of the close call. Had he cut in deeper, he would have bled out very quickly. "I would rather have been stabbed than go through losing you."

"I don't want to lose you either, dad, and I don't want you to keep worrying about me, or face these terrible life or death situations." Steve watched as his father traced the line on his wrist. His memories of causing that injury were blurred, overtaken by the horror of stabbing his father. So much of his time in the terrible institute was blurred.

"The fact is, son, I love you very much. I will worry about you whatever you do. It's part and parcel of being a parent and I wouldn't swap the worry and anxiety for anything in the world. If you want to quit the department because you're tired, or want a change in lifestyle, then I will, of course, support you. However, I can't have you quitting because of this. It's not fair on you, or me, and you could end up resenting me." Mark spoke firmly and quickly. He meant what he said. He wasn't going to have his son give up because of him. Even though part of him wanted Steve safe. It was true; he'd worry about him whatever he did.

"I wouldn't resent you, dad. This is my decision." Steve sighed as he spoke.

"Maybe not, but I still don't want you making this decision, not because of what happened, or because you love me. I know you love me, I've never doubted that. You've been shaken and you're feeling low, but we both know being a cop is what you do and who you are." Mark spoke gently but firmly, knowing how difficult it could be to reach his stubborn son at times.

"Yeah, I've been shaken. I stabbed you!" Steve bit back a sob. "I've always been worried that you could get hurt when you're working on a case, but I never in my wildest dreams could imagine that I'd be the one to hurt you…."

Mark reached out and squeezed Steve's shoulder encouragingly. He needed to provide comfort but didn't want to interrupt. His son was finally opening up to him.

"I also think I just understood, for the first time, what you felt when you see me in hospital. I don't want to put you through anymore of that, and I most definitely don't want to be the cause of you being hurt again." Steve closed his eyes. He didn't know how to begin to recover from this. He'd never felt as devastated as he had when he realized he'd stabbed his own father. His gentle, loving father, who'd never hurt anyone in his life.

"This wasn't your fault, Steve, and nor would it be if something happened during a case." Mark paused. "I can't lie, Steve, and say it's easy seeing you hurt. You're my son, and I worry every day the phone rings that it is another …call…" Mark stumbled over his words; the emotions of the too recent shooting still too close to the surface. Vaguely he wondered if he would ever be able to discuss that day with equanimity but somehow doubted it. "But I don't want you any other way. Only the other night when you told me about the case, I thought about this. I'm very proud of you, son."

Steve sighed and dropped his head to his knees. Mark put his arm around his shoulders and Steve leaned gently into the embrace, trying not to put pressure on his injured father.

"I need to think about this, dad. Too much has happened. But I love you too."

Mark hugged him close. His son wasn't usually the demonstrative type but this conversation demanded some show of affection. "I've got an idea. I'm on sick leave for another two weeks, and you've got at least another week on sick leave. Why don't we take a trip to the mountains? That always helps you see more clearly."

Steve grinned, still enjoying the close contact with his father. His emotions had taken a real battering and he took comfort from the loving presence of his parent.

"You'd go to the mountains with me?" Steve joked lightly.

"Yeah, I'd go wherever you want, as I think a break would do us both good." Mark grinned back.

Steve sat up. "Yeah, let's do it. But first we should get you back to the house. It's getting a bit cold out here."

Mark grumbled as Steve helped him up. "Now who's fussing over who?"

Steve grinned evilly. "I think it's about payback time! Now you know how I feel! Let's go get ready for Amanda and Jesse. I'm starved."

Mark smiled to himself as they made their way back to the beach house. How could he not be proud of such a son? Hopefully this vacation break would help further heal him. Any other decisions could wait. The most important thing was they would be together.

The End.


End file.
